Outwit, Outlast, Outspy
by Blown
Summary: COMPLETE. An International Red Alert is called, summoning the heads of every intelligence agency in the world. They've come to talk about one mutual threat: a former MI6 agent Alex John Rider. But how did he turn into one of the world's most wanted fugitives?
1. The Red Alert

Chapter One

The Red Alert

**0500 March 19th**

In London, England, there is a long winding road called Monterrey Crescent. On this street there was an old, deserted funeral home. This funeral home was called the Royal and General. The large white building was crumbling with age, the once grand walls were covered with ivy, and the wooden shutters bent and broken. It blended perfectly into the old, scenic landscape of the county side. This was kind of place people see, but never remember.

Despite its appearance, this house was anything but old and worn.

This house was the pinnacle of high technology. It was impossible to enter without being checked at least a dozen times by the security cameras, the elite guards, and invisible scanners. All this was not paranoia; it was a necessity. Every bit of it was necessary for the protection of the people located in the building. These people were there because they had received a signal. The signal of a Red Alert.

The heads of the most powerful intelligence agencies in the world were present. Those unavailable sent there most trusted representatives. The information in this meeting was secret, and could not be trusted to be transferred electronically. No matter how high security there was, there was always the risk of infiltration. If there is a signal, it is possible to follow. And it was a risk they, as intelligence agencies, could not take. Not if the survival of all the people in the world were depending on this information.

The various heads of intelligence agencies did not fidget, for it was unprofessional to show emotion, but a kind of impatience was coursing through the room. They all knew that if someone had managed to get through the extensive securities placed around the building, and managed to set a bomb in that room, most of the countries in the world would collapse. This made all the men and the three women in the room, understandingly, uncomfortable. Therefore they wanted this to be as swift as possible. Some, like the head of the CIA had flown across the Atlantic for this meeting at about 2 O'clock at night, and was understandably, irritable.

A person cleared his throat and if possible, the nervous energy intensified in the room. The head of MI6, a man by the name of Alan Blunt, stepped up to the podium, and cleared his throat again. 36 heads swivelled around to look at him, giving him their undivided attention. It was a bit chilling. One of the men did not have an eye. Blunt, if he noticed, he ignored it, and said,

"Thank you everyone for coming today. As you are no doubt aware, a Red Alert was called as of 0700 yesterday on a matter of great importance. A Red Alert is called whenever something becomes known to a specific intelligence agency that could do potential harm to all of the intelligence agencies in the world. The last Red Alert was called 32 years ago, on a matter of great importance. Today, I bring you all here to show a threat that has come to our whole society."

He paused for a moment for dramatic effect.

"A threat, that needs to be eliminated immediately- if uncooperative. If the threat is used against us, it would do us a considerable amount of harm."

A Chinese man in the middle row raised his hand, then thought better of it, and nodded for Blunt to continue on.

Blunt continued as if nothing had happened.

"This highly dangerous threat was once used by us, that is to say MI6, as a weapon. It was used on several missions which have all been more successful than we had originally anticipated."

Brows on the room furrowed.

"In just the course of one year, this now threat," Blunt continued, "has been behind the fall of Herod Sayle and his stormbreaker, which would have killed a large amount of people,"

"The fall of Dr. Grief who was the headmaster of Point Blanc Academy and tried to take over the world by cloning himself in the shape of several sons of the most influential people in the world,"

"The fall of Alexei Sarov, who wanted to blow up the radioactive submarines in Russia, which no doubt would be disastrous,"

"The fall of Damien Cray, who was going to launch 25 nuclear missiles into various points on this planet,"

"The fall of the Ark Angle space station, and prevented it from killing numerous civilians,"

"The fall of great terrorist organization known as SCORPIA, and their operation Invisible Sword, which if successful, would have killed all the children in England,"

"And stopping a major Snakehead in southern Asia, from starting a tidal wave big enough to devastate Australia and Asia."

At this, an African man cleared his throat. Blunt nodded, and the man spoke, "Am I to believe all this was accomplished within the time-frame of one year, by _one_ weapon? This is...beyond what is expected..."

The man's voice drifted away as he considered how great this accomplishment truly was. This weapon must have saved the world over 7 times...

Blunt nodded. "It was, like I said, unexpe-"

A large German man interrupted. "What kind of weapon is this? Is this a new type of gadget? If something so powerful was found, why have you not shared this with us?"

Blunt replied, "This is not some gadget. It is- was one of our top agents. And we have not kept him selfishly for ourselves. This agent has not only worked for us, but with the CIA and the ASIS. Please try to hold your questions until after the briefing."

"This agent has an outstanding 100% success rate, and was given level 13 clearance. Only people with that clearance knew about him. Even the Prime Minister did not know about him initially."

At this, there were several startled looks, (which were the equivalent of a normal person jumping up and down screaming,) exchanged around the room. These were trained professionals who did not show emotion lightly.

"As I said," Blunt continued, seemingly oblivious to the bombshell he had just dropped, "he, that is the threat, was one of our top agents, but our relationship is somewhat complicated. From the start, he did not wish to work for us. We persuaded him to, but there was an understanding that that was the first and only mission the agent would perform."

He stopped and took a deep breath. "As you know, this was not upheld. I must admit we used him, and so did the CIA and the ASIS. We expected him to be a great agent, and yet did not give him the benefits of any. He worked for us on all those missions, yet had no salary, no benefits, and no care."

"Needless to say, he grew tired of our controlling ways, and wanted out. But we could not let him. He knew way too much and was too big of an asset to let go. This feeling was magnified when his only family died, and he blames us. If we had not made him go on all these missions in the first place, he feels this would never have happened. There was also a misunderstanding about the cause of his guardian's death. We had guards at his house, but he escaped. The moment I knew, I called a Red Alert."

He paused for the other people in the room to absorb this information. It was a lot to take in.

"In what ways is this agent of yours most dangerous to us, that is to say, the Intelligence society?" Asked a Japanese man, cool disdain showing on his face, "I do not think, no matter how good this agent is, that he, a single person, could pose a threat to all the law forces in the world."

"Contrary to your belief," Stated Blunt calmly, "this agent poses a huge threat to us- if left unchecked. As I said, he was given level 13 clearance - the highest there is. Only the prime minister and the heads of MI6 had the same information access as he did. He knows a lot of our top agents from working with them. If he were to whisper a few of those names to a select few terrorist organizations, our entire society in one place could entirely collapse."

This was met with a shocked silence.

"What I propose we do," said Blunt, "is immediately send searches to keep an eye out for him. Files about him will be passed around to everyone at the end of this meeting. He must be detained, so our enemies cannot use him, and if uncooperative, must be killed."

At this, a woman the back of the room raised her hand. "Who is this incredible agent?"

A look of weariness crossed Blunts features, the first emotion he had shown in many years. This flash was quickly replaced with his normal mask of indifference. But the various heads also caught it. This agent was not only one of the most successful in spy history, he made Blunt show emotion. Who was this agent?

"His name is Alex Rider..." A slight hesitation, then, "And he is fourteen years old."

**Please review? I'm writing (as far as I can tell) an original story, non-cannon, so any feedback is extremely appreciated. Thoughts? Comments? Constructive Criticism? Haikus? **


	2. A Cup of Tea in Paris

Chapter Two

A Cup of Tea in Paris

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0900 March 19th**

Alex knew he was making a mistake. He just _knew_ it.

He was sitting at one of the many roadside cafes in Paris, France. He was wearing a grey, hooded sweatshirt, non-descript jeans, and a pair of worn out sneakers. He looked just like many of the tourists that walked around, gaping at the sights. He had a pretty face, but cold, hard brown eyes that had seen too much and was void of emotion.

He heard a couple of girls walking by, giggling and debating in French if the good looking English boy was single, sneaking slight glances towards Alex. They'd been shopping and carried huge shopping bags on either hand. Alex wasn't surprised when one of the girls complained she was tired. They sat down at a table across from him, and continued their earlier conversation. They spoke in French, not bothering to lower there voices, assuming that the mysterious blonde sitting across from them couldn't understand. Little did they know that that said boy was fluent and could understand their entire conversation about him.

Before, this would have amused him; that girls thought that he, Alex Rider, was apparently hot, but no more. After what MI6 had done to him, he couldn't get himself to care about these things. These normal teenage activities seemed pointless, stupid and mostly childish. It was just more evidence of what his life had done to him. It had forced him to grow up, and quickly at that. He knew, of course, who was to blame. Right from the beginning it was MI6, even before he was born.

MI6 had sent his father on a mission, and later his father and mother were killed. Then, they employed his uncle, and guess what? He was also killed. So now they employed him. Funnily enough Alex had predicted the pattern and had no intention to follow it.

Was he supposed to be grateful that MI6 had sent all his family to their deaths, and now wanted to send him to his too? Does that sound reasonable? How does that even make sense? Was he supposed to thank them that they sent him to risk his life, and the lives of every single person he knew?

And to think, Alex once thought he should. That he should be grateful to them. He liked helping people and his country. The missions that they gave him helped him keep people safe, well, as many he could. They said they cared about him. And like a fool, he believed them.

He finally found out the truth, when it was too late. MI6 had already killed Jack. He could still remember when it happened.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**1604 March 4th **

_"Jack! I'm home!" Alex cried happily as he came through the front door. "Guess what?" he continued, "I made it back on the football team! Coach said if my attendance keeps on being good I might be the team captain!" Alex was jubilant at the prospect. His life may finally have some sense of normality. In time it may even become, dare he say it, normal. Alex grinned at the thought. Maybe not completely, but he had hopes._

_But when Alex reached the kitchen, he realized something was wrong. Jack was not there and she had not replied. She knew how worried Alex could get and always replied. Just to be safe, he grabbed a knife lying on the counter-top, feeling his old senses that kept him alive on missions start to work again. He hesitatingly called out,_

_"Jack?" Slowly he advanced upstairs toward her bedroom. There was a muffled thump. Then a huge clatter._

_"Jack!" He rushed into her room, and was unprepared for what he saw. There, lying in front of the bed was Jack, a blossom of red spreading across her chest._

_"Jack!" Alex cried. "What happened?" He knew all too well what had happened. From his observations, she had taken a bullet to her chest. Someone had wanted her dead. Blood was rushing out of the wound at an enormous rate. The moment Alex saw her; he knew he could do nothing to stop it._

_"Who did this Jack?" His mind, whirring, Alex tried to think of the possibilities, but couldn't. All he could think was: Please, not her! Anyone but her! She's the only family I have now. Unchecked tears streamed down his face._

_Her pulse was fading quickly and she sputtered out; "Alex...beware danger... MI6..." She took a deep breath, and said "I'll always love you...I'm sorry..." With that, her eyes closed, and she lay, limp._

_Alex stood by her. He thought he was going to die from the shock loosing her. In a daze, he saw himself call 999 and then the paramedics taking her away in a stretcher._

_Her death had come so suddenly, when he thought things were finally becoming normal. Jack was the last person in this world who loved him._

_Past all the colliding emotions in him, one though kept on rebounding in his mind. Who did this... and WHY?_

_He took a few deep breaths and tried to look at the room like a professional, searching for clues, and pushed all his bitter emotions in a box in his mind to fret about later._

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**Back to present: 0910 March ****19th**

A single tear leaked out as he remembered the events of that day. However Alex was knocked out of his thoughts by a waiter who came over and asked, in French, "Would you like something to eat sir?".

Alex thought, _why not? H_e ordered a cup of tea, and a large club sandwich special. He was getting a bit hungry after the long train ride here, and then hitchhiking on a friendly Frenchman's wine truck. The money he had was more than enough for one meal. The waiter took his order politely and left to get him what he wanted.

Alex played with the fork on the table in front of him, day dreaming slightly about what it would be like if he had a normal life. Right now he would probably be worrying about his marks and girls; not about which the quickest way out of the cafe was if he was attacked, and how much damage this fork could do to an unsuspecting attacker. Judging the fork to be no help if he was against a professional unless it was a distraction, Alex carefully placed the fork back on the table.

A new waiter came up to him and asked, "What can I get you sir?"

Alex looked up at him with an amused expression. "Did you get the wrong table? Your comrade has already asked me."

The waiter had a very nervous expression on his face and laughed shakily. "I'm so sorry sir. I just switched with the other waiter and I guess your order got mixed up. Is there anything I can get you?"

Calmly Alex gave his order again. He stared at the new waiter as he shuffled away. The man was in his mid thirties and looked rather worse for wear. He was wearing the waiter uniform, but it seemed to be put on in haste, and there was a rather curious bulge on his waist. Before he could identify what exactly it was, the waiter walked out of his view.

Alex waited patiently for his order to come. A few seconds later, the waiter was back with the humongous sandwich he had ordered. As he placed the plate in front of Alex, Alex noticed that the man was sweating profusely. Not wanting to make the waiter more uncomfortable with his staring, Alex looked anywhere but his face. Instead, he looked at the curious bulge on the man's hip. From Alex's training, he recognized the shape to be a revolver. _Oh..._

_Shit! _Alex thought while his brain ran through a dozen or so scenarios. His brain whirled franticly while trying to attain the appearance of someone who was calm.

"Thanks." Alex said to the man casually as the waiter finished putting the plate down. "Are you okay? You look like you're afraid of being killed any second. What's making you so nervous?"

Alex stared at the man with his innocent brown eyes. Judging by this man's reaction, he would know what he was there for. Alex felt, rather than saw the man stiffen. The man tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it turned out as a grimace. One of his hands was squeezed into a fist, like a signal.

Suddenly, Alex heard the doors burst open. Twenty armed men all with the uniforms of the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure (France's CIA) burst into the room. They clearly were professionals, and had the room surrounded before anyone could react.

**A/N: As you might have noticed, I went through and added dates. Not essential for the plot, but I thought it was nice. With all of the flashbacks, having solid dates will make everything clearer. At least that's the idea. =)**


	3. The Boss and Black Clothed People

Chapter Three

The Boss and Black Clothed People

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

**A bit of swearing at the end of this chapter. Nothing major, this IS rated T. Does anyone think I should down it to K+?**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**From the last chapter:**

Suddenly, from behind him, Alex heard the doors burst open, and twenty armed men all with the uniforms of the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure (DGSE) burst into the room. They clearly were professionals, and had the room surrounded before anyone could react.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0920 March 19th**

The people in the cafe were clearly startled, and reacted in different ways. Some just stared, mouths agape, others started screaming. They immediately shut up when a short French man entered the room. He seemed to be in charge and had a glare to rival Wolf's. This man had peppered hair and a stubby chin. He wore a beige suit, and a huge Rolex watch. While everyone was too busy watching the agents, the waiter had disappeared.

Alex took all this information in at one glance. He took the time to swear, once loudly in his head, and then started digesting what this meant. He might be over-reacting, they might not even be here for him, but Blunt had a favourite saying, "Where others see coincidence, I see conspiracy." Alex sat still and tried to behave like a normal teenager. The whole time, he could feel the dead weight of his gun, which he had stolen from an assassin, strapped to his waist, and his senses were screaming at him.

The short French guy proceeded to try and calm everyone down. He spoke in French, and tried to be consoling, but it was hard because his gaze was just as deadly as ever. "I apologise for any discomfort this may cause. I am here representing the D.G.S.E, on a matter of importance. I am here to arrest a fugitive of the law that had escaped from England. I would like everyone to please cooperate and line up against that wall over there."

This speech was met with a shocked silence, and no one moved, too shocked to do anything. The man then gave up on trying to be comforting and just shouted, "EVERYONE GET UP AND LINE UP AGAINST THE WALL! NOW!" He took out his gun, and waved it around to make his point.

Everyone jumped and almost ran over to the wall. Alex slowly fingered his gun, and followed the flow. Unless he was mistaken, this "fugitive from England," was him. He wasn't stupid. This meant MI6 had ratted him out to the D.C.S.E, and if he was not much mistaken, pretty much every Intelligence Agency in the world. This could get tricky.

He tried to hide behind a big French businessman, while he fiddled with a plastic watch which was one of the good bye presents from Smithers.

The short French man promptly took a deep breath, and got a grip on his temper. He didn't seem really angry, just irritated. "I am here for a person named Alex Rider." No one moved. Alex wasn't going to make it too easy for them. He was too busy eyeing the door and calculating projectiles and reflect angles.

The man seemed to lose his temper again. "ALEX RIDER! SHO-" That was as far as he got, because that was when Alex acted. He fired three tranquillisers at the three guards closest to him, and they all went down, somewhat sluggishly, as if the air turned into water. Before the little man could react, Alex dealt him a sharp elbow jab to the side of his head, swift, powerful but not deadly. It was easily delivered, succeeding in knocking the French man out cold. The force of his blow sent the French man tumbling into a guard on the right.

The man, who was in charge of a section of soldiers in the D.G.S.E was quite amazed at the power of this fourteen year old. Just before he passed out, the man remembered when he received his order.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0700** **March 19th**

_The man, who was called Pierre Bordeaux, had just finished de-briefing one of his recruits. When he got back, he received a note that the Boss required his presence A.S.A.P. Pierre made his way to the boss's office taking a record time of almost half an hour to walk up a flight of stairs, and down the connecting hallway. He took a deep breath outside the mahogany door, and knocked. He was answered with a monotone._

_ "Come in."_

_He opened the door and took a rather hesitant step in. As usual, the room's stunning decor shocked him. The Boss's office was a stunning almost fifty feet wide, and the sidewall was taken up by a fifty foot bulletproof window. Parts of the windows had magnifying glasses, and were designed so that each panel of glass could be adjusted to see each part of the city in complete detail. The office was located on the 50th floor and the window was set at a slight angle so that you could see the sprawl of the whole city beneath you. In the middle of the room, there was a large table with leather chairs on both sides. The Boss was sitting in the chair behind the desk, with his fingers steepled._

_Pierre perched on the edge of the chair across from the Boss. He rubbed his palms to get the sweat out of them. The Boss gave off a chilling feeling of exactness and cruelty. "Sir. You requested my presence." It was supposed to be a statement, but it came out as a question. _

_"Yes Pierre. The situation is this: I have just returned from a Red Alert meeting." The Boss paused a moment, to allow the full implications to sink in._

_"What was the threat?" Pierre asked, immediately jumping to the heart of the matter. Red Alerts meant internationally dangerous threats._

_"This meeting was called by the British, MI6. One of their top agents, who was given level thirteen clearance, has turned against them. This agent knows a lot of information that could do serious harm if in the wrong hands. Blunt, the head of MI6, said that the agent has to be terminated..." The Boss explained, face devoid of emotion, as usual._

_"But you don't?" Pierre phrased it as a question, but it wasn't. Not really._

_The Boss seemed to pause and think each word thoroughly before he said it. "I think it's a waste of talent. This Agent, Alex Rider, is the most successful agent I've ever seen. He has an astounding 100% success rate for more than 7 missions. One of them was bringing down the terrorist organization named SCORPIA. He has worked for the CIA and the ASIS. I am wondering what he could do for us... if persuaded..."_

_"You want me to persuade him to work for us?" The boss's way of talking without once actually saying anything was confusing to say the least. _

_The Boss looked at him, gave him the undivided attention of his cold, blue gaze. "Of course, the DGSE cannot go against the wishes of all the Intelligence societies in the world. At the Red Alert meeting, the MI6 said that the agent should be terminated. The DGSE should of course follow the will of the Red Alert meeting. We agreed to it, and will not go against our word."_

_"However," The Boss continued, "That does not mean that the agent couldn't do something beneficial for France if the DGSE has no knowledge of this happening."_

_It took Pierre a few moments to finally get what the Boss was saying. "I understand what needs to be done, sir." _

_He had to convince Rider to "do something beneficial for France" with "the DGSE having no knowledge of this happening". He had to do it discreetly, maybe even set up a false trail, or to fake the death of Rider so the MI6 don't know. Maybe employ one of the small mercenary/terrorist groups to keep him and use him. Then the agent wouldn't even have to see his face, much less trace this back to the boss._

_"Good. Pierre, I am ordering you to hand choose a team of DGSE _recruits_ to attempt to capture the spy. I have recent intelligence on his whereabouts. This is a great chance for our recruits to finally have some real field experience. You will lead them personally." _

_"Understood, sir."_

_"Do you? If you are _caught _doing something against the Intelligence community's wishes, you will be at their mercy. No one- no one can protect you."_

_Pierre could not suppress a slight shudder at the implications of the words. He did not want to know what happened to the people who crossed the Intelligence Society. They had the law in their hands, and could make anyone's life a living hell if they tried._

_Pierre swallowed hard and said, "Crystal clear, sir."_

_"Don't look so worried Pierre." A sheen of sweat had developed around Pierre's forehead, and he was gripping the luxury armrests very tightly. "I have decided I have taken a liking to you. In fact, just for leading the group of recruits and attempting to capture the agent for the Intelligence Society, a monetary boon of half a million will be no problem."_

_"Thank you, sir. That is really too much—"_

_"It is nothing." The Boss said calmly. "If you do this well, you will be paid the same sum every year for various anonymous services that will be for France."_

_Pierre still gulped. "I will be sure to try my best."_

_The Boss studied him with his calculating gaze, then nodded. "Here is the agent's file. I am sure someone with your specific skills and contacts will succeed." Though the words were pleasant, his tone and posture were clearly saying "or else". _

_When Pierre turned around to go, the Boss stopped him. "Oh, and Pierre?"_

_Pierre turned around reluctantly. He was so close to the door. "Yes, sir?"_

_"Don't fuck up."_

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**What do you think of my new version of chapter two? Did the Boss make a formidable enough impression?**


	4. The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

Chapter Four

The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

**From last chapter:**

That was when Alex acted. He fired three tranquillizers at the three guards closest to him, and they all went down, somewhat sluggishly, as if the air turned into water. Before the little man could react, Alex dealt him a sharp elbow jab to the side of his head, swift, powerful but not deadly. It was easily delivered, knocking the French man out cold. The force of his blow sent the man tumbling into a guard on the right.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0921 March 19th**

The leader being out of action bought Alex a few seconds, as the soldiers were unsure what to do, now that their leader was not there to give out orders. Alex immediately ran for the exit. But two DGSE men blocked his way. They grabbed his arms and stopped him from running.

"Thought you could run away from us, boy?" One of his guards sneered. Alex didn't reply, too busy fiddling with his watch and taking aim again. Three darts was not all he had in his watch.

However, Alex was stopped from showing the cocky DGSE man the full potential of his watch. The doors to the cafe suddenly burst open, and a flood of men wearing black clothes came in. They paused for a second; their gazes flickered to Alex, and then started fighting against the DGSE. (1)

Alex was, unfortunately, caught in the middle of the crossfire. Whoever these men in black were, they were fast. His guards were distracted by the new arrivals,(can you blame them?) and in a flash, Alex was out of their grip, the cocky man was on the floor. His other, previous, captor grabbed his arm in an attempt to lock in behind his back, but Alex was to quick. He retaliated by bringing his full body round into a side kick to the stomach, then proceeding to knock the man unconscious by raising his knee sharply to the man's , who was doubled over, forehead. However, his victory was short lived.

As soon as one was down another appeared, showering Alex with a series of punches and jabs all aimed to kill. Alex, by instinct managed to block most of the attacks, but could only deflect some away from the vital points. The moment the man he was currently fighting dropped his left guard, Alex struck. He used a common, but powerful attack, jabbing sideways with a knife hand while putting his left foot behind the man's left foot tripping him backward with little force or effort from Alex. Leaving the man groaning in pain on the floor.

While watching the man for retaliation, Alex was almost caught unawares by an attack from behind. Alex's instincts managed to warn him at the last minute, so he managed to deflect a blow to his shoulder instead of his neck. Still, the blow was hard, and was clearly meant to be life threatening. Another blow quickly came at his kidney. Which made him fall, winded, to the floor. He got his hands into a sluggish block, waiting for more blows. None came. Alex looked up just in time to see his attacker quickly taken down by a man in black.

Interesting. The men who came in were clearly professionals, Alex noticed. They did not kill their targets, merely knocked them out, but were precise and accurate, hitting pressure points to ensure that they would be out for an hour or more. Alex watched the men who fought with ease, while covering from his winded stomach.

The men in black had the DGSE men out of action in a matter of minutes. Even Alex was impressed. Only SCORPIA could have done better. Once the area was clear of DGSE who were awake, a man in black offered a hand to Alex to help him up.

A bit dazzled, Alex took the man's hand. While he was still disoriented, his mind worked furiously to understand what was going on. Meanwhile, he studied the man that had helped him. He was of medium height, about 6'1, brown hair and with blue-green eyes. He had a thin blade of a nose, sturdy- no nonsense eyes, full lips, and a stubborn chin. He was wearing what looked like a black windbreaker with black water-proof pants. He was ruggedly handsome, and very fit.

Alex purposely sagged a little as the man pulled him up, to appear weak, at the same time testing the man's strength. His muscles were like steel wires and supported Alex's full weight without strain. The man was surveying Alex like Alex was surveying him. Neither of them said a word, gauging each other's strength and ability.

Alex decided to break the silence first. After all, if the man wanted to harm him, he could have done so already. "Thanks. I was in a bit of a tight spot there." He said, attempting to be gracious and blaise.

The corner's of the man's eyes wrinkled, and a kind of amused look passed over his face, but then his look darkened. "Your welcome. But you shouldn't thank me. I didn't do it for you," He responded.

"Why are you admitting that?" asked Alex, surprised. Of course they wanted something from him if they went against their federal Intelligence agency for him, but Alex had never met someone who freely admitted it. Blunt always talked as if he was doing what was best for Alex.

"Why shouldn't I? It's the truth, we both know it." The man replied, matter of fact.

Alex looked at the man again. He was very different than the people he was used to be working with.

"Who are you?" Alex finally asked, "What do you want?"

"Look Alex. I'm not going to tell you a bunch of crap." He said, surprising Alex again. "Not like the crap MI6 told you. Not like the crap the CIA, ASIS, and SCORPIA probably told you. I'm going to tell you the truth, because if there's one thing I believe, the truth is always better than lies."

At Alex's raised eyebrow, the man answered his unspoken question. "Lies might work better on the short term, but only the truth will last. And the truth right now is this:

'Right now Alex, you can't run away from us. We have a lot more people and we are all professionals, as you have probably noticed. We have not underestimated you. We all have a number of concealed weapons which you do not need to know, and we are prepared to do anything to keep you here.'

"You are wanted by every Intelligence society in the world right now. You may or may not know this, but a RED ALERT was called as of yesterday night to discuss a major threat to all the intelligence agencies in the world. This threat, is you. "

"You need a safe place to stay, food, water, and clothing. None of which you have, but we can give. All you need to do is come with us right now. If we wanted to harm you, we could have done so a million different ways by now."

Alex considered this. Alex was very intriged by this man. There was much more to him than first meets the eye. And the points he made were all valid... right now Alex _was_in a lot of trouble, and he _did_need help...

"I don't even know who you are," He finally asked, "Why should I trust you?"

"My name is Alistar Gregorovich, I believe you knew my father."


	5. The News Of Death

Chapter Five

The News of Death

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

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**0930 March** **19th**

If someone could have looked inside Alex Rider's head at that moment, it would have looked something like this:

!($*_!#()*%_*(#%~!

Alex's training prevented him from showing more emotion than a slight loosening of the mouth and a popping of the eyes. For him, this was a big show of emotion. However, Alistar was trained too and recognized the surprise on Alex's face. There was even a flash of, what, happiness? Hope? But it was quickly replaced by his normal mask.

There was a tense, apprehensive silence between the two. The other people in the room tried to blend into the walls. They should really be getting out of there, but no one was brave enough to break the silence, or even make a sound. A few people shifted uncomfortably; waiting for Alex's reaction. Alistar stared at Alex, categorizing his every move, gauging his reaction.

Alex realized this, and hastily changed the subject. "Alistar, maybe we should have this conversation another time. We are kind of exposed here. Anyone could hear us, and I doubt either of us will be happy if we were caught by the DGSE."

Alistar nodded, but gave the boy a look telling him the topic was not over. He quickly said a few calm orders in Russian to the men beside him and they immediately began to pull out. He didn't shout or do anything, but the men hopped to it like they were burned. A large truck came to pick up the other men. Alistar, Alex and four other guards took a smaller car through the afternoon French traffic.

The car was silent for most of the ride. It seemed they didn't want to be overheard. Alex was forced to duck three times when they passed checkpoints. Everything went smoothly. It seemed like the men have done this many times.

Alistar, though he did not show it, was very intrigued by the boy in front of him. Suprisingly, the boy was very good at hiding and being unseen. When asked to hide or duck, he almost seemed to blend into the shadows. The boy constantly seemed to surprise him. He knew how smart and good the boy must be. The boy had been trained by SCORPIA, and an International Red Alert was called all because of him. He knew all this, but he constantly found himself getting comfortable with the boy. For even though the boy had experience and skill, there was a childlike, almost innocent air about him. Even all his spying and hardships did not destroy that. It showed when he let his guard down; you can see the eyes of a child. A child that has been through a lot, yet still has some hope. It even reminded Alistar of himself when he was younger, only a few years older than the boy. Alistar pondered about the boy in silence, and thought about what he was going to do about him. Alex was very important, and everyone seemed to want him. And he didn't know if he was going to follow through with the plan of the DGSE. He had kidnapped the boy per the orders of the Pierre guy, but he had no intention of being a tool for the DGSE. He pondered about the newest addition to his group in silence, giving Alex time to adjust to the turn of events, and process the information given to him.

They were leaving the city sprawl far behind them, and when they were rolling around in the countryside, Alex finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry. About your dad, I mean." The boy beside him stated. Stirring brown eyes filled with a deep raw emotion starred back at him. The boy said the two words calmly, but with a deep understanding sadness.

"What? Why?" Whatever reaction Alistar was expecting, it wasn't this. He had waited patently for the boy to speak first, and was ready for a conversation about Yassen, his dad, but he did not expect this.

"For your dad, in general." Alex replied calmly. "Even though we were always on different sides, I respected him. He always gave me a chance; which was more than anyone else ever gave me." Alex said, memories threatening to burst from him. _It was true. He was a friend, even if I didn't realize it at the time. _"I'm truly sorry about his death."

Alex looked up at the man beside him, when he didn't reply right away. Alistar had a hazy look in his eye, as if his thoughts were far away. Suddenly, Alistar snapped back out of it, and now his eyes were filled with anger.

"Who did this? Tell me everything you know!" Growled Alistar.

"You didn't know? But I though... SCORPIA...aren't you with SCORPIA?" Even Alex was getting confused.

"No I'm not part of SORPIA. Technically I don't exist. It's a long story. I'm more interested of your story of my Father's death. Why did you know of this and not me? My contacts..." Alistar started getting caught up in his thoughts again.

"Uh, Sir," Said the man in the driver's seat, "I'm sorry but it's not safe to talk here yet. There are more checkpoints ahead, and anyone can hear you on the road. Maybe we should wait until we reach Headquarters."

"Yes. David, that's a good idea." He said to the man in the driver's seat. He back to face Alex, "This conversation is not over. When we get there, please tell me all you know about my father. After, I will have a chat with my contacts, who have failed to bring this information to me. But before we stop, I need to know. How long has it been since his death?"

"It'a been nearly 7 months. "

Alistar hands tightened at how much time had passed, but true to his word, there was no more talking. Not a word more was said. Alex eventually grew tired and ducked into the bottom of the seats in the back, and fell asleep on the floor of the car. His brain needed to relax. It had been a hell of two days.

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**I don't always end on a cliffhanger, but it was tempting. =)**


	6. New House, Haunting Old Memories

Chapter Six

New House, Haunting Old Memories

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

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**1700 March 19th**

That night, Alex finally slept in a bed. It was a beautiful four poster bed, with wooden engravings on the side and clear blue drapes that hug from the top. He was wrapped the softest blankets he had ever slept in, and he had just eaten a delicious five course meal. Silent, tense, but delicious. Alistar had disappeared shortly after getting out of the car, and was no where to be seen. Alex had been walked up to his room through the huge Victorian mansion by one of the men dressed in black, who left him alone when Alex said he was going to sleep. The room was dark, soothing, and peaceful- such a contrast from how he felt inside. There were many things he had to think through before he could even begin to feel like sleeping. The problem was, he didn't feel like himself.

Ever since his uncle's death, he had felt thrust into a new world, one where survival was the main goal. Not morals, or to do well in life like he had been brought up to believe. It was a world full of surprises and secrets. He still wasn't sure if he should thank MI6 for unleashing the potential in him, or to hate them, for stripping away his childhood and bringing him into this complicated world. He began to loose track of who Alex was. Agent Rider? Alex Friend?

Even though this new world was different, slowly Alex began to find new rules to replace the ones he lost. He began to accept his place in the world, and didn't feel as out of place. But the events of the past few days shattered that small hold he had on humanity. He had been betrayed by one of the few people he trusted. It had all started the day Jack died. The day he finally found out the truth.

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**1900 March 4th**

When the paramedics, police, and Jack's body were gone, Alex started searching for clues. He'd stopped himself from showing emotion at that moment, as he reminded himself, there'd be time for that later. Now he had to find out what happened. The killer could not be far. He let his gaze slowly scan over the room, taking in all the details at once, moving quickly but efficiently, not letting his gaze or imagination linger too long on puddle of red right in front of the bed.

He didn't know what he was looking for, something out of place maybe, but one thing was for sure. Jack had been killed by someone. It wasn't an accident. The thought gave him a sudden surge of anger, and for a moment his gaze went red. His hands were shaking from the sudden fit of rage. He lifted the window for a breath of fresh air. It swung open easily, and Alex inhaled a deep breath of fresh oxygen. It cleared his head, and after several deep breaths, he began to feel like himself again. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Suddenly, he froze. Alex studied the window frame more closely. He ran a finger across the windowsill, and came away with a dark smudge smeared on his index finger. It was oil. The problem was, he and Jack never oiled anything. Ever.

The tingling feeling he got in his neck whenever danger was near was acting again. He didn't know if it was from the sudden collusion of his two lives, or he had cracked under Jack's death (for this seemed more than likely) but his instincts had never failed him before. Something was deeply bugging him. It was like he had all the pieces, but couldn't step away from the problem to see it clearly. He was too involved with the problem, and the emotion was clouding his judgment.

He turned around and surveyed the scene again. As his gaze passed the pool of blood, his mind turned back to a few minutes earlier... what had he heard?

There was a muffled thump. Probably the bullet entering Jack's chest.

And then a dull clatter. Wait! A clatter? Nothing had been dropped; nothing was out of place in the room except the strangely oiled window. Wait, the window. Alex let go of the hand holding the window and it made a large clattering sound.

Alex slowly began to understand what had happened. The job had been done by a well trained assassin. Probably knowing that Ian had all of the windows in the house bullet-proofed, the assassin knew that if he wanted the death to seem natural, he had to get inside the house, kill Jack, and then destroy the evidence. But Alex didn't think things had gone to plan for the assassin. Alex had arrived earlier that day because a fellow team member had gotten hurt, so the coach had offered for Alex to rejoin the team. The practice had been cancelled, and he had come too late. A cruel voice inside his head said, shut up. He told it.

Alex quickly opened the now smooth oiled window and clambered out onto the roof of the porch. As he had guessed, he spotted the crouching form of the assassin hiding by the shadow of the chimney. If Alex was the assassin, that would be the place he would choose to hang out. That was the place people would expect him to avoid at all costs.

Alex had learned this lesson the hard way on the huge boat of SCORPIA and Major Yu. Crouching there and trying to think of the best way to capture him/her, Alex couldn't help but admire the assassin. Being the middle of the night, unless you were as close and as familiar with the house as Alex was; it was almost impossible to tell that there was a person between the jutting out part of the attic and the chimney. The assassin had either been well trained-to be able to improvise in difficult situations-or had a very good floor plan of his house. But his house had been on priority watch, only the heads of MI6 would have been able to get his plans.

Now, how to sneak up on him without falling, getting caught, or shot. That was the question. Alex decided to take a chance. He gripped a particular strong piece of ivy dangling in front of him and when all was quiet, swung himself quickly over to the other side, closer to the chimney. Alex thanked the heavens again for his small body and reasonably light weight. For if it had been anyone else, the vine would not have supported their weight.

Though he twisted to lessen the impact, the force of hitting the concrete wall on the other side of the house still shook him. For a few seconds he saw stars, but he clutched on tight to the ivy, not letting it swing back and attracting more of the waiting assassin's attention. Alex stood there for a few minutes, studying the shadow on the chimney, holding his breath and hardly daring to move. He didn't know if his maneuver had been seen.

He stood there from his new vintage point from the window of the second floor study, almost directly behind and below the attic roof and the chimney. Slowly, inch by inch, Alex painstakingly climbed up the window onto the roof of the attic, careful to not make a single sound. The afternoon, already turning night was cold, and a cool wind threatened to blow him a bit to the left where a sharp looking water drainage pipe waited, ready to cut him if he ever slipped. After several painful moments, and many painful poses later, he was on the roof, and the assassin was directly below him, within lunging distance.

Using a smooth practiced gesture, Alex drew the knife that he had taken from the kitchen earlier that evening. He lunged at the crouched assassin, got him in a secure headlock, and held the wickedly sharp knife at the man's (Alex could tell from the Adam's apple) throat.

Before the man could react, Alex whispered. "Don't move. If you make a single move, I can cut your throat before we both end up on the ground. I might break a leg, but you'll be dead."

The man froze, and said slowly, "I won't move."

"Good." Said Alex. He didn't even recognise his own voice anymore. It was cold, and devoid of emotion. It was the voice of an emotionless killer; like Yassen. Normally, he'd be shocked, right now, he couldn't have cared less. "I have a couple of questions for you. If you answer them, I'll go away and let you report to your higher ups. If you don't, or try to lie to me, they'll get you without a head. Understood?"

"Crystal." Replied the man, beads of sweat beginning to form on his head.

"Don't move." Alex warned. Then he proceeded to search the man from head to toe and removed all weapons found on the man, including his watch (you never know) and threw them over his shoulder. They landed harmlessly on the grass in his backyard. If Alex hadn't been trained as a professional assassin by SCORPIA, he would have found the assortment of weapons on this man very eye raising.

"Now, I'm only going to ask you the questions once, and I want you to answer them truthfully, or I'll know. Who sent you to kill the woman known as Jacqueline Starbright?"

The man took a deep breath, and replied, "SCORPIA. Scorpia never forgets, Scorpia never forgives."

**Who do you think he is? Is he telling the truth? Click on the button that says review, and guess. If you get it right, I'll dedicate my next chapter to you! I'll put your name in BOLD and UNDERLINE. Remember, the more elaborate, and crazy the guess, the better!**

**Thanks for all of the reviews. I cherish each and every one of them. =)**


	7. Inquisition Tactics

Chapter Seven

Inquisition Tactics

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

**A/N: This Chapter is dedicated to ****BLUETEETH ****for the longest, most elaborate, and closest guess of all. Your name is in bold, underline, and CAPS as promised. Thanks for Teehee, Lalalalalalal, ReillyScarecrowRocks, and PacificThunder, who's guess I really liked. All of the guesses are great, but I had to dedicate it to someone. Thanks so much for everyone else who reviewed!**

**Haha, none of them were exactly right though. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the last chapter to get the entire story. I hope it doesn't disappoint. **

**I must apologize first for the long wait, and for the non-perfectness of this chapter. But, I hope you'd like an update, even if it's not perfect.**

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**1915 March 4th**

Alex just tightened his grip on the man so the knife pressed harder into the man's throat. The sharp knife bit into his soft flesh and a few drops of blood dribbled down his throat.

"Don't lie," Hissed Alex, "You've probably never seen a SCORPIA assassin in your life."

The man blinked; sweat now dripping down his eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

"I've had plenty of time to study you all the way up here. You weren't weary of attacks-you sat down, not crouched, when everyone knows you should always be on your feet. You favour your left side, not perfectly balanced like highly trained fighters are supposed to be. You are muscled more on your right side so I say you are right handed, and can't shoot with both hands- a huge disadvantage. When I jumped at you, you didn't react until I had the knife at your throat, so your reflexes aren't that great either. You probably received limited training and were chosen for this job not because you were good at what you did, but because you were untraceable, and replaceable." Alex stated each fact calmly. There was something chilling in having yourself assessed like an object then deemed "replaceable" by an emotionless voice.

"It's a shame you're going to give your life to people who don't even care about you." Said Alex. "The people who sent you after me did not want you to survive. How do you think I found you so fast? Did you actually think the little hiding spot-that your superiors told you-was so great? It only took me five minutes to find it." The hiding spot the assassin chose was actually the best spot in the whole house to hide in, but no way was Alex going to let the man know that.

The man gulped. Apparently he hadn't been trained thoroughly in inqisitory tactics. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Said the man, however he was sounding less sure.

"You do know by now that they were using you. They knew I would track you down in the end. Everything they told you was a lie. All they wanted was for you to kill that woman for them; and congratulations, you've done exactly that." Alex gulped, his mask breaking for one second. Nothing before had even come close to cracking his spy mask, as emotions are weaknesses he can't afford, but Jack's death had hit him hard. He covered for his moment of weakness by twisting the man's hands behind his back, then pressing the knife on the man's Adam apple. The man gulped and the knife grazed his throat.

Alex continued talking like nothing happened. "Now, the situation as I see it is this: you have two choices. You can continue to tell your pathetic lies, and die in a long and painful way."

The man opened his mouth, seemingly to reply, but Alex shushed him by tightening his hold on the man, making him wince at the added pain and succeeding in cutting of his line of speech.

"Or you can tell me who hired you, and I can take revenge on them, not you. You can run home, and be out of the country before the sun has even risen. It's your choice, and you only get one. What's it going to be?"

Alex released the pressure on the man's throat slightly so he could speak. "I'm sorry about the woman; I didn't know who she was. It wasn't part of the job. But I can't betray those who I work for. They might be using me, but you are too. My answer is no."

The man closed his eyes, and waited for Alex to make the move to kill him. For a moment there was absolute silence on that rooftop. Alex inhaled a shaky breath, and prepared to spring. The man clenched his body, preparing for the blow. In one smooth movement, Alex jumped away from the man onto the part of the roof where he came from. The man blinked, surprised at the sudden release, and looked up at Alex.

"There has been too much death tonight. I don't want to add more. You can go. Go down the house by the front lawn. Don't make any sudden movements, or I might change my mind. If you ever give me reason to doubt you, I'll find you, and I'll make tonight seem like a walk in the park."

The man still sat there, a dazzled look on his face. "It seems I misjudged you boy, God bless you."

The man quickly made his way down the house, using a magnetic sort of contraption of the sharp water drainage pipe, and slid all the way down onto the front lawn. Then the man walked all the way to the end of the block, and then turned right. As silent as a shadow, Alex the spy followed; silently thanking the gods that his football uniform was dark blue and black.

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**March 4th - March 12th **

Alex slowly tracked the man for more than a week.

When he was half pretending to be angry and stuck the knife deeper into the man's throat, then proceeding to choke him, he had also slipped a little plastic jewel inside. This tiny plastic jewel was actually a gadget of Smithers, which allowed him to track the movements of anyone within 500 kilometres. With luck, it would grow inside the cut, and stay inside the man. He had followed the man to insure that he did not discover the device, and as Alex suspected, he didn't. Though the man was good at shooting, and had qualities that would make him a good soldier, he wasn't cut out to be a spy or an assassin.

So then, before the man could suspect, Alex went home and used his MP4 player to monitor the man's progress. He did not allow himself to think more about the events of yesterday

The man was acting strangely innocent. He wasn't going anywhere he shouldn't be. He behaved like just any other tourist in London, (for he was masquerading as one) and went to tourist sites, then retired to his hotel late at night.

The only evidence Alex had of the man's darker side was his new collection of advanced assassin weapons in his back yard. Since MI6 wouldn't let him have a gun, he had to keep these hidden, and put them under a loose floorboard in his living room, under the rug. His uncle had several similar hideouts in the house; and as Alex grew more, he began to appreciate his uncle's tight security and a bit of paranoia.

Alex didn't waste the week away. Even though nothing suspicious happened, he still learned all he could about the man. His name was Arnold Greene, and as Alex had suspected, he had been a previous soldier in the army. He had been the best of his class, and was great at following orders.

Alex slowly tracked the man for more than a week.

When he was half pretending to be angry and stuck the knife deeper into the man's throat, then proceeding to choke him, he had also slipped a little plastic jewel inside. This tiny plastic jewel was actually a gadget of Smithers, which allowed him to track the movements of anyone within 500 kilometres. With luck, it would grow inside the cut, and stay inside the man. He had followed the man to insure that he did not discover the device, and as Alex suspected, he didn't. Though the man was good at shooting, and had qualities that would make him a good soldier, he wasn't cut out to be a spy or an assassin.

So then, before the man could suspect, Alex went home and used his MP4 player to monitor the man's progress. He did not allow himself to think more about the events of yesterday

The man was acting strangely innocent. He wasn't going anywhere he shouldn't be. He behaved like just any other tourist in London, (for he was masquerading as one) and went to tourist sites, then retired to his hotel late at night.

The only evidence Alex had of the man's darker side was his new collection of advanced assassin weapons in his back yard. Since MI6 wouldn't let him have a gun, he had to keep these hidden, and put them under a loose floorboard in his living room, under the rug. His uncle had several similar hideouts in the house; and as Alex grew more, he began to appreciate his uncle's tight security and a bit of paranoia.

Alex didn't waste the week away. Even though nothing suspicious happened, he still learned all he could about the man. His name was Arnold Greene, and as Alex had suspected, he had been a previous soldier in the army. He had been the best of his class, and was great at following orders.

**March 12th**

He found the man's actions strangely out of character. The man stayed the whole day in his motel, just pacing in circles. Curious at the change in character Alex decided that a little investigation wouldn't hurt, much. Alex hacked into the man's email and phone records, he found out that he had received emails from a mysterious source threatening him with short, but clear, sentences. He found out from this that the man's wife and children were taken from him by the mysterious people and he was blackmailed. Blackmailed. Alex couldn't help but relate to the situation. The man had sent an email back saying "It's done." And he had received an email back saying to "wait."

So now the man was staying put. Alex had a reasonable amount of knowledge of computer hacking and tried to trace the mysterious emails, but the path was small and well hidden and soon enough he hit a malware devise that he couldn't bypass and therefore triggered a wall causing the computer to immediately shut down, and the whole hard drive erased. It was clever. It was professional. Feeling something important was about to happen, Alex got his bulletproof windbreaker, and put a small knife and one of Greene's guns on him, then left.

He found the hotel easily, and could easily see the assassin pacing in the lobby. He paced non-stop and was even sweating bullets. Alex settled down on a bench across the street to wait.

He didn't have to wait long, as after five minutes; a very familiar figure was seen walking into the hotel lobby; a medium height woman, who always had the distinct smell of peppermint. She showed the man a picture, and the man looked visibly relieved. She spoke a few more words and he looked nervous again. She motioned for him to follow her, and they both got into a black limousine together.

Jumping on his bike, his brain in overdrive, trying very hard to not think about what this could mean, he raced after the fast fading limousine.

**Any guesses to who that was?**

**I cherish reviews.**


	8. A Blunt Confrontation

Chapter Eight

A Blunt Confrontation

**Thanks for everyone who's reading this. This chapter is dedicated to you. =P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not Alex Rider, not Blunt, or any money. So please don't sue. =) This applies to all chapters in this story. Do I have to disclaim every single chapter?**

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**1200 March 12th**

Alex focused all of his energy on following the black limousine in front of him. He pedalled furiously; glad to have some action that needed his full attention. He did not want to think of the implications of seeing Mrs. Jones and Jack's murderer together.

The wind blew through his hair as he navigated a way through London's heavy traffic. As they turned the third corner, Alex got the gist of where they were going. Twenty minutes later, he was proven right. He was back where it all started: The Royal and General Bank.

Quickly, he hid behind a hot dog stand as Mrs. Jones and Greene stepped out of the vehicle. He watched as Mrs. Jones was welcomed back with open arms, and that a few people even recognized the man, Greene. Greene even seemed popular with the employees. But Greene didn't return the greetings as enthusiastically. He was too busy watching Mrs. Jones, as if she was the person in who called the shots.

Suddenly, Alex felt a sinking feeling in his chest. He remembered the emails, and the mysterious person who had his wife and children. Quickly, not wanting to lose them, Alex walked into the Royal and General, taking care to avoid the place where he was shot.

By the time Alex went in, Mrs. Jones and Greene had already disappeared into the private elevator. Alex waved to the receptionist, saying that he didn't need to be called in, as Blunt was already expecting him. She smiled, and didn't beep him up, as Alex was a frequent visitor. Now Alex had the element of surprise.

Instead of taking the elevator, Alex took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get to the bottom of this. He felt his carefully constructed mask start to slip again as he looked at the evidence. Why was MI6 so comfortable with Jack's murderer, Greene?

He continued all the way to the top floor where Blunt's office was located. Blunt, Mrs. Jones, and Greene were all inside the office already.

Blunt was sitting behind his desk calmly surveying the perspiring man in front of him. Mrs. Jones stood to the side, a slight frown on her face, as she sucked on a piece of peppermint.

"-have her back." Said Greene pleadingly.

"Since you have completed your job, I don't see why not. Your wife and children are safe and sound. Go to the Chelsea Police Station and tell them that Crawley sent you. They'll release your family, and you can go back to doing whatever you did before. "Blunt said.

Alex has heard enough. Blunt had put this man's wife and children into a _police station _to get him to kill Jack? Alex barged into the room. He slammed his hand on the table; just inches from Blunt's face.

"What the _hell _is that man doing in this room?" Alex's eyes swept the room, but only Green's eyes showed the shock that everyone in the room was feeling.

Blunt said, "Alex-"

"Don't give me some bullshit." Interrupted Alex. "Tell me what the _f*_is going on!" Alex snarled the words at the man. He was spitting, and he probably looked mad, but Alex was beyond caring by this point. "You've been taking advantage of me for too long. I'm not stupid." Only a dimwit would not understand what all the clues of the friendliness of Jack's killer and MI6 meant.

"Alex-"

"Really, it's only out of past respect that I am not currently pounding your face." Said Alex.

"Alex." Mrs. Jones tone was pleading, guilty. "It's not what you think. Please calm down."

Alex was fuming. "Did you even know what she meant to me?" He ignored Mrs. Jones, and glared at Blunt. "Of course you didn't you emotionless, selfish ******! She was the last family I have, and you _killed _her! And I can't believe you blackmailed a soldier, _arresting_ his family, to do the killing! How are you even _human?"_

"That is enough, Alex." Said Mrs. Jones. Her tone was sharp, reprimanding. "You do not know _anything _about what happened. Please sit down and just let Alan explain."

Knowing he had gone over the line, (he had just called the heads of MI6 some _pretty_ bad things) but still not caring; Alex sat, glaring at Blunt, wondering how in the world Blunt was going to explain this one. Blunt just stared back calmly.

True to his name, Blunt got straight to the point. "We sent a man, this man, as you know, to assassinate Miss. Starbright."

Alex's brain nearly exploded. Did Blunt actually admit that? Just like that?

Even though Alex knew the facts, he still couldn't bring himself to understand the full implications. Having a guess based on a few pieces of evidence just wasn't the same as having the culprit to admit to it.

Mrs. Jones, standing to the side, had similar thoughts. "Wha-"

She was interrupted by Alex. His eyes, glazed with rage glared with raw intensity at Blunt. His left hand slammed on the table, barely missing Blunt's face. With his other hand, he pulled out one of the best killing guns ever made, which he had previously taken from Greene. Looking Blunt straight in the eyes, Alex pointed the gun at the man's head. His hand was steady.

"What. Did you. Say." Each word was spoken through gritted teeth.

Instead of Blunt replying, Greene broke the terse silence. "Don't do it."

Alex didn't move, just flicked his eyes at him.

Greene looked really guilty. _Well, too bad for him._

"I probably should have told you before, but that wasn't really the best time." Greene seemed like he had been keeping a lot in for the past few days, and it was all coming out in a rush. "They took Susie and Mary. I really shouldn't have done this; but- I guess what I'm saying is that killing won't help. Really. He might have been the one to make the decision to kill her, but you have a decision too."

"Oh really," snarled Alex. Green's reasoning wasn't helping. Alex didn't want to be reasonable right now. He wanted to blast the man who had exploited him, ruined his life, and murdered the one person who still loved him for who he was. He wanted to pull the trigger now, and face the consequences later.

"You still have a choice." Greene was firm.

"Greene, you should go and save your family." Said Alex, teeth still clenched, but with a softer look in his eyes.

"Once you kill," continued Greene, "it's impossible to undo, and it's not a thing you should do lightly."

"You think I'm doing this lightly? He killed jack!" Alex started to shake with the suppressed emotion in him. It was so much to handle. "I've almost forgiven you. You've been used just as much as I have. Now go before I change my mind, and kill you too. Get your family, and never come back. Don't make me change my mind."

The man shook his head sadly, telling him with his gaze to consider, and then left.

With the last flint of his conscience gone, Alex felt different. All of his pent up emotions were coming out now in waves. All of the suppressed anger, the remorse, the guilt, and the sadness was spilling out. The dam had broken, and a flood was coming out.

Alex's hand was still steady. Even at this stage, where he was so close to losing it, he was still very much the trained professional. Alex laughed bitterly. He supposed that's why MI6 wanted him.

He looked at the gun seriously, thinking over the pros and cons of his actions. His calculatory gaze swept over Blunt, and for once, Blunt felt uncomfortable. This didn't happen often.

"Alex, is this really what it comes down to?" Blunt said, a soft expression on his face. Wait- Blunt, soft?

Alex took a deep breath to reply, and his arm started to shake. Really, was this the way their relationship was going to end?

Alex debated for a moment. Whatever he did, whatever choice he made, he would have to live with it.

No regrets.

Cocking his hand back, Alex punched the head of MI6 straight in the face. Hard. Blunt had no time to react, and was thrown back on his armchair.

"Greene was right. No one is going to make a killer out of me. Not even you; no matter how much you want it. I care about people; which are what makes me stronger than you." Alex snarled, threw the gun to the side making sure it's out of reach, and ran out as fast as he could.

As he ran, he heard Mrs. Jones yell after him, "Alex, we can explain..."

Alex just ran and ran, and ran. When his vision started to blur with tears, he convinced himself it was just because of Jack, and not at all because some part of him actually trusted MI6; and they had betrayed him. They had killed Jack. But deep inside he knew. He was never going to be the same again.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

Once Alex was out of ear shot, Mrs. Jones' facade slipped. She turned to Blunt, not caring that all her emotions were there for him to read. Right now, she wanted Blunt to know how pissed she was.

"That was poorly handled Alan." Said Mrs. Jones.

"There was no other way." responded Blunt, wanting her to drop the subject.

"That was rash and irresponsible, and you know it."

"Well, he'll be back soon enough. And hopefully he'll actually have a backbone now." Said Blunt, not caring any more.

"How could you say that?" exploded Mrs. Jones. "You wanted to turn him into a killer?" Realization dawned on her. "That was your plan from the start. This whole Starbright business was about that, wasn't it. You wanted to continue Alex's SCORPIA training."

Blunt just looked at her, not agreeing or disagreeing.

"I can't believe I'm even surprised! I should have known you'd have other motivations. Employing Greene? He was supposed to be a scapegoat!"

Blunt just looked at her calmly. Waiting, and expecting her to get a grip of herself. "I had hoped this would also make him more determined to destroy SCORPIA, as Greene was supposed to say that, and Alex, in a fit of rage, would have killed him." Said Blunt gently, "but that's down the drain now. I knew it was a mistake to employ Greene_._ He's too emotionally attached. And Alex... is more level headed than we gave him credit for._"_

Mrs. Jones' face twisted, something was going on in her head. But as soon as it came, it was replaced with her normal mask. Her eyes utterly calm, she said, "I propose to let Greene go. He won't do anything. I think he's trustworthy. Even when threatened by Alex on the roof, he didn't give us up."

"I shall consider it." Said Blunt, relieved that Mrs. Jones was professional again. "But right now, our main problem is Alex. I want guards posted around his house. Twenty-four hour watch, with a yellow alert. I want all seasoned professionals, nothing like Greene."

"Fine. I still don't like it." She sighed, once and loudly. "I think you're underestimating Alex."

"He'll be back, don't worry. He's too like John." Blunt's tone brooked no room for argument.

"John didn't do it by himself, you know. Helen actually gave birth to him, and you know what she was like."

Blunt didn't reply. For once he was at a loss of words. And that didn't happen often either.

"I just hope you know what you're doing Blunt, or this could all go up in flames." Sighing, she turned to leave.

Blunt watched his first and most faithful comrade leave him. He knew he should have consulted her first, but it wasn't to be helped. He just hoped this would turn out okay, and they could move on with it. He actually missed the cheery peppermint sucking Mrs. Jones.

**I'm still not 100% satisfied with the confrontation part. There's so much emotion and things happening in that one conversation. The part that hurts Alex the most is probably that deep down, he actually trusted MI6, not much, but enough to never hurt him on purpose, and they'd done the unthinkable. Alex is going through a hard time. **

**I love hearing what you guys think. I try to reply to all my reviews since all of them are so awesome. =)**


	9. Bully Boy Makes a Mistake

Chapter Nine

Bully Boy Makes a Mistake

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

**Thanks so much for the support and reviews. They were amazing. In fact, I recently got a review in Spanish, which I have no idea what it means. It was hilarious to read the translation from Google Translate, because it said stuff like "Kill BLUNT Jack, want Alex you think." Google Translate makes me laugh. (Has anyone seen the stuff on Facebook for Google Translate?)**

**This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful beta 32-star for being so supportive and listening to me blabber on and on about my seemingly endless ideas. It's thanks to her that this chapter is up so fast. So go and y'all give her cookies!**

**I'm actually not really pleased with this chapter. But I can't figure out what's wrong with it. If you can figure out what's so annoying about this chapter, please let me know. I'm practically begging you for flames... I really am. **

**I am so weird.**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**1240 March 12th **

Alex ran past the stunned workers in the building, not caring if they noticed it was Britain's "best" spy running through the halls with tears blurring his vision. He was choking up inside, feelings and thoughts collecting and bumping into each other until his mind was just a jumbled mess. Only one thought was clear in his mind right now, and that was to run, and run, and run. He had a lot inside him, and running was getting it all out.

He ignored all of the top MI6 workers, the field agents, and even one man who pulled out a gun when he was startled by Alex. He just wanted to get away from this mess that was his life for once. Too bad that wasn't possible except to kill himself, and Alex would never do that. After all the things he's done to stay alive, killing himself would be a huge waste of time.

Alex finally slowed down; the energy from the anguish he felt fading. He was always a logical person, and even in this situation it was impossible for him to do anything stupid. He wasn't crazy. _Aren't you supposed to go crazy if the person you love dies? Does this mean that I just don't care for Jack enough?_

This thought made Alex stop short. The idea was just too horrible to contemplate. The thought that he didn't care for Jack; just for the things she gave him, made Alex feel like his stomach was just fast frozen by liquid nitrogen. What if-

"Excuse me? Are you lost?" A haughty voice interrupted Alex's bout of self doubt.

_Wha-_

"Are you?" Alex asked in the same tone, even managing a snear. He couldn't resist poking back at the man. The man was clearly a bully, and Alex never liked them. He had already met enough bullies in his life, and didn't feel like meeting another. Especially after everything that had happened today.

"O-f… course not!" Stammered the man, indignation in being addressed in this way showing clearly in his tone.

"Well then you should probably stop making assumptions of everyone else walking through here." Alex retorted; his eyes as cold as ice. He knew he was being a complete asshole, but he didn't get why everyone else could get away with treating him however they wanted and Alex couldn't "sink to their level". He was sick of bullies, and tired of having to take what they threw at him because he was a "better person".

Alex felt the man's eyes scan him over. The man took in Alex's casual clothes and school boy appearance. The man's gaze lingered on Alex's tear stained face and quivering body, taking it to mean nervousness rather than anger.

"I'm not assuming anything." The man's haughtiness was back. "Unauthorized personnel are not allowed here. Kid, you could be in big trouble for trespassing." The man recovered from his surprise quickly and tried to use his superior height to his advantage. Too bad for him Alex was used to fighting people far bigger than him, and far better too.

"Who do you think you are?" Alex glared at him, saying with his eyes, _back off. _The man was either dumb or too wrapped up in himself to notice the danger signs. Probably both.

"You listen to me! This is a bank! Not a playground for little kiddies! If you trespass, you will get into serious trouble with the government!" The man exploded. If Alex was any other person, he would be frightened. This didn't even make him blink. Then Alex realized…

"What does the Royal and General Bank have to do with the government? It's a private bank, isn't it?" Alex allowed himself a smirk. Bully boy had let something slip.

Bully boy, as Alex had dubbed him, opened and closed his mouth with no sound coming out. Bully boy knew he almost blew the cover of the Royal and General bank. And to a 14 year old school boy nonetheless. He looked like a swelling tomato that was getting bigger and redder with every passing second.

"Ah I knew you looked familiar!" Shock showed on the man's face, Alex smirked before continuing, "you look just like a certain red tomato I saw the other day on the internet." That was the last straw, and Bully boy lunged at Alex.

Big mistake.

In one smooth movement, Alex used one had to block the blow, the other to punch the man in the stomach, winding him. He then flipped the man over into a vulnerable-quick-to-turn-into-painful position, and pointed his gun, previously pointed at Blunt, on the man.

Alex kept the gun there just to make a point, and then said, "I told you to stop making assumptions about people. Not everyone is what they seem."

MI6 were all bullies. From the heads to the low operatives, they were all selfish bastards. Wallowing in self-pity and doubt did not help Jack, wherever she was. Alex was going to move over himself, and do something productive. He was going to make sure that by the end of the month, MI6 wouldn't have enough power to bully anyone, ever again. Blunt made a serious mistake picking on Alex Rider.

He might not even live to regret it.

**Yep, my Alex doesn't spend much time whinning about how much life sucks. He's not philosophical like Hamlet, but more action oriented. It doesn't mean he doesn't feel any of the pain, he just tries to deny it to himself. **

**Flames are so _pretty..._**

**_*crackling laughter in distance*_**


	10. Touché

Chapter Ten

Touché

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything you recognize is not mine. I also don't own the idea of "since no one is supposed to know, everyone knows." It's from the Fanfiction "A Small World" by prone2dementia. Go read if you haven't read it yet, it's hilarious. Thanks to ReillyScarecrowRocks for figuring it out.**

**Now, on with the story!**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0630 March 20- present day**

Alex sat up in bed, sweat pouring down his face. His brain went into overdrive, identifying himself in a strange, unknown setting. Before he knew what he was doing, he had sprung out of bed, was in a fighting stance, and had his hand on his watch. Six thirty AM it flashed. Then he suddenly realized where he was; in Alistar's mansion.

Irritated at his spy instincts for disturbing any chance he had of sleeping in, Alex looked at a new set of clothes laid out in front of him. The adrenalin was pumping through his veins, and he could barely focus on the pile of clothes on the dressing table. There was a pair of what looked like normal grey sweatpants with a white cotton T-shirt. There was a pair of black boxers, blue socks, and clean, brand new Nike running shoes. A bag was placed beside the pile of clothes with toothpaste, toothbrush, comb, and, strangely, a tube of zit cream.

They all looked perfectly normal, and did seem like the kind of things any thoughtful host would provide for anyone staying over. However, old habits die hard.

Alex made sure not to touch anything and gave a through scan of the room with his eyes. He looked over every part carefully, committing it to memory and checking for any irregularities. From the inside, it looked Victorian. On the way here, he was too overcome with exhaustion to do more glance around the room once, and fall asleep. Now he could really appreciate it.

The theme of the room seemed to be the moon and the stars, as everything was a shade of blue and silver, except for the beautifully carved mahogany furniture. The four-poster bed took up a good sized portion of the room, with blue drapes, and silver inlay on the posts. The floor was covered in plush blue carpet with silver waves flowing through. Three sides of the room were painted like the night sky, with stars twinkling in a dark blue night. There was one moon on each wall, each in a different phrase. The last wall, the one on the right side of the bed, was made of a full length arched window that from this height gave a breath-taking view of the sky as the sun was just rising.

What Alex found strange was how far he could see. It was all flat and rolling hills, and from this height, he could see a lot of the countryside. There was no 50 feet electric high fence, patrolling guards, massive dogs, or indeed any form of force protecting this mansion. This was very unlike some of the other major masterminds he had dealt with.

Wishing he had Smither's Nintendo DS with him now, Alex reluctantly took the clothes on the dresser. He walked into the adjoining room and found a Jacuzzi three times the size of a normal bath tub. He turned the water on, and cleaned himself all over. It felt good to have a shower after spending all that time on a stinky wine truck.

After he was done, he put on the clothes that were on the dresser. He accepted the fact that right now, Alistar held all the cards, and he would just have to trust that the clothes wouldn't kill him.

He wore his bulletproof windbreaker on top, kept his own shoes, just in case, and slit a small hole in the pocket of his pants so he could have better access to the knife strapped to his thigh. Carrying a gun would be too noticeable, but a small switchblade was easily hidden. If worst comes to worst, he still had the darts and other things in Smither's watch, the bulletproof windbreaker (with a parachute), and lock-picks in his shoes. Let's hope they were enough for what was going to happen.

Alex was about to find out why a criminal organization had gone against their own Intelligence agency for him. The wanted something of his, and badly. _This worked out better than I thought it would,_Alex thought.

A flicker of what could have been a smile danced on his face, but it faded immediately as his thoughts went to Jack_Don't worry Jack, I have a plan. A plan that will cause MI6 to be sorry for all of the manipulating, deceit, blackmail… oh and not to mention all the near death experiences he'd found himself in due to their actions of 'best intentions'._

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0700 March 20th**

"I see you're up early." A calm voice said from behind Alex.

"The sun rise is really beautiful here." Alex responded. He had come downstairs to find himself in a large living room, with the east side made out of all glass. He wasn't exaggerating- it offered a breath-taking view of the French countryside.

A deep throated chuckle accompanied his words. "I didn't know you were a person who was interested in things such as simple sights. But then again, there is much I don't know about you." Alistar's bad mood from yesterday after discovering his father's death seemed gone. His tone was almost friendly. He was probably trained to be a good actor.

Alex turned around and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you even existed until about a day ago, and you are telling _me_ that you don't know me well enough?"

"Well, I did not know about my father until about day ago, so I guess we're even." Instead of being accompanied by the gloom that Alex expected, this almost seemed light hearted. Over his father's death so quick? "Plus, I'm very intrigued about a boy who could put the worlds' intelligence agencies in such a state."

"As I am very intrigued by a man who risked going against his own intelligence agency in broad daylight for the life of a fugitive boy."

"Touché."

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0300 March 18th ( or Night of March 17th)**

_"Touché" Said Smithers, panting with exertion through his "work suit". _

_Alex had just successfully evaded the entire team of MI6 guards sent to watch his house—or so he thought. He had stumbled into a trip laser of Smithers', after fooling the cameras, passing the trip wires, placing strategic rocks on pressure pads, and deactivating the few explosives. He cursed himself for not being careful enough to think of lighting a small match for smoke to check for lasers. He though the light would attract too much attention and that no one would care enough, or have the time to set up a series of complicated lasers. But that's exactly what Smithers had done; curse his mechanical geniusness._

_Still, Alex had not gone out without a fight. He knew that the entire MI6 team was spread out on the other side of his house and preoccupied with shadows that looked like him moving about, and the weight from rocks placed on pads to prove it. There was just Smithers and one guard in the way, so he ran._

_There was a lot of shooting behind him, but as it was dark, most of the bullets missed, and the few people who had been issued night vision goggles were aiming for his chest, and his windbreaker protected him. MI6 wanted him dead if he tried to escape today. Good thing to know._

_He thought he had gotten pretty far into the woods away from his house before a net was sprung out of nowhere seemingly, and pinned him down hard, into the ground._

_The jovial voice of Smithers pierced the night air. "Alex m'boy, you're not an easy person to pin down, pun intended."_

_Alex then responded with what he thought about Smithers jumping out at unsuspecting boys in woods at night. If he was going to be dragged like a trussed turkey to Blunt, at least he'd go with his mouth intact._

_Smithers chuckled and replied, "Touché". He quickly gained control of his breathing, and proceeded to explain in a serious tone. "Alex, I'm not part of the team who is responsible for bringing you in; I was just sent to erect a maze of lasers around your place that, I quote, "a mouse would have a hard time getting out of". That is what I have done, and that is all that I will do tonight."With a click of a button, Alex was freed of all of the ropes._

_"You can't let him go!" A voice shouted out of the darkness. A thunk followed. Alex went to check up on the man that had crept up on them, and realized he was dead from a dart in his neck. He glanced at Smithers, then pocketed the gun from the dead man. It would come in handy someday. _

_"You're letting me go?" Said Alex. He slowly stood up, knowing Smither could have him flat on his back in a second if he made a wrong move._

_"Alex, this is hard for me to say, but I trust you. Because no one is supposed to know about you, everyone in MI6 has heard of you. I'm not deaf, blind, or stupid; no matter how much I try to appear so at times; and with almost everyone coming to me before missions for gadgets, I probably know more than most people. Alex, I..." Smithers voice faltered for a bit. _

_"I think I understand Smithers. You knew about me all this time; the blackmails... and probably Greene too." Alex's voice was soft. He probably should've been mad, but he was sick of being mad all the time, at himself, at Jack, at Green, and most of all at Blunt. If actually felt nice that someone finally knew what he was going through._

_"Alex m'boy..."_

_"It's okay Smithers." Alex cracked a sad smile. "You don't have to apologize. Really. Letting me go right now more than makes up for it. Plus your inventions have saved my life more times than I can count." Alex didn't know why he was comforting Smithers. But this was the tone of a man who had seen too much, probably suffered even more than Alex had._

_"Alex, I'm not sure if you understand. I'm not the only person feeling this way." Smithers sounded a bit desperate. "Let's just say not everyone is impressed with the way MI6 is becoming. People whisper, and talk, and think. Blunt has overstepped his power on several occasions; you're not the only person he's blackmailed, as you probably saw with Greene."_

_"How did you know about that?"_

_"I have my sources"_

_"You bugged Blunt's office?" Alex whistled, impressed. "I don't get what I'm supposed to do with this information Smithers. You're telling me what, exactly?"_

_"There's a change happening in MI6, Alex." Smithers paused, choosing his words carefully, deciding how much to share. "There's a stir because of you. If you manage to get away today, it will be a direct hit to Blunt's dictatorship."_

_"Interesting." Smithers had given him food for thought._

_ "Knowing Blunt, he'll probably retaliate with something drastic. **(The 'something drastic' turns out to be an international red alert. =P Who knew?)** You need to be prepared and kept hidden. The longer you stay hidden, the better. It shows that Blunt can't do everything."_

_"How do you propose I stay hidden? It's not easy to not be noticed by one of the world's best intelligence agencies."_

_"I've prepared some gadgets for you to use. Here's a watch, a pocket knife, and a pair of shoes. Hurry, take off your shoes and put these ones. I'll leave a false trail with your other shoes, and maybe make it seem like you're barefoot. There's not much time, but the heels of both your shoes come off: inside the left one is a manual explaining in detail how to use the gadgets. The manual dissolves on contact with water, so destroy it soon after reading it."_

_"Thanks Smithers."_

_"Good luck m'boy."_

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**A/N: This is probabally the least of my worries right now, (referring to my unhappiness with the flow and pace of this chapter), but does the italics bother people? It actually bugs the Cradoodles out of me, but I thought normally flashbacks were always done in italics. Or maybe just in the few books I've read. In any case, if it bothers anyone like it does me, just leave a review telling me so. Here: I've made it easy. Just copy and paste the text below and leave in a review.**

The overuse of italicized words in the flashback makes my brain fluid explode and come bursting out of my ears, cascading like Niagara Falls. It really and truly bugs the cradoodles out of me. Please change the italics back into plain wondrous writing, or else I will go to planet Earth, where I believe the author lives, and lure her to a dark alley. You have been warned.

**There. Wasn't that easy? If you're smart, or have had the patience to continue reading this horribly long author note, you will now notice how the underlined parts can even be removed and other content be inserted. See how kind I am? That's why you should forgive me for the extremely long wait for this chapter. *hides behind the magnificentness of the word cradoodles*. **

**Now you can't kill me. haha**

**~Blown =P**


	11. The Meeting

Chapter Eleven

The Meeting

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to Anthony Horrowitz. **

**This chapter is for everyone who stuck with me for this long (THANK YOU!), and for all those awesome betas that save the butts of authors more times than you can count. All your authors are probably drooling after you because of your awesomeness.**

**Really.**

**Actually drooling.**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0705 March 20th**

"Touché," said Alistar. He did not want to show it, but the more he got to know Alex, the more intrigued he was. It seemed every answer that Alex gave just led to more questions.

Alex twitched his lips, giving Alistar a definite sign of his emotions. Alistar wasn't at all like any of the criminals he was used to. He wasn't crazy, deluded, or twisted. Alistar strongly reminded Alex of Yassen—another criminal that was...not crazy, deluded, or twisted.

Even though Alistar had a softer demeanour than most, no one could doubt the cunning intelligence in Alistar's eyes. If Alex wasn't wrong, Alistar was someone who got their way; not because of his ability to scare people into doing what he wanted, but by using his intelligence

"Do you really want to know why?" asked Alistar seriously.

Alex's gaze was steady as he replied. "If you've been in this business long enough, you know there's never really a choice."

Those intriguingly intelligent eyes stared at him. "Very well."

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0715 March 20th**

Alex found himself led to a large meeting room, which was also fancy Victorian. The room was rectangular, but two opposing sides were rounded making it look almost oval. The walls were plastered with lush wallpaper, and the room was dominated by a large wooden oak table. There were no chairs. The room wasn't supposed to be welcoming. Two other women were there.

Alistar situated himself at the head of the table, with the two women on both sides like guardian gargoyles. Alex found it almost comical. Alex went and stood on the other end of the table across from Alistar. The two women-one was tall and blonde, the other shorter and brunette—looked at Alex with calculating expressions. They gave each other an unreadable glance, and then both looked at Alistar. They were both extremely beautiful.

To any other spy it might look innocent, but Alex having spent so much time among secondary school students knew it was the silent communications between people who really understood each other, like Alex and Tom. That was before—everything else, of course.

Slowly, Alex leaned on the table and laced his hands in front of him, giving his full attention to Alistar; and indicating that he should start. The knife on his thigh itched.

"Vladia and Miri, meet Alex Rider, the boy that has the entire intelligence world in a crisis. Alex, meet Vladia," he gestured at the blonde woman. "Vladia is my assistant and secretary. Miri," he gestured at the brunette, "is my personal bodyguard, among many things." She looked very buff, and had a glare worse than Wolf's, and that's saying something.

"Were either of you ever Miss France?" Alex tried fluttering his eyelashes, they were really beautiful, but was wondering why Alistar hired two women as his highest assistants.

"Miri was once Miss Germany for weightlifting. They both have quiet impressive legal records, and even more impressive illegal ones. I've also found that women tend to be underestimated in general, and especially in our business. Surprise can sometimes be the best weapon."

Alex agreed with both points. Surprise was often all he had on his side, and it saved him more times than he could count. He would never make the mistake of underestimating people just because of their gender; Miss Stellenbosch had surly taught him that. Alistar had answered his unspoken question.

"Have they approved of me?"

Alistair's eyes sparkled for a second, the way they do every time Alex's intelligence was shown.

"You are observant. They were trying to decide if you are an empty headed kid who just got lucky in your missions, or if you actually do have any talent."

Alex was starting to like Alistair's blunt sense of talking and quiet humour. "Why waste the brain cells; I'm as simple as dirt, and even more charming than dirt." Said Alex, wide eyed.

"From your files, you are a bit more complicated than dirt," said Vladia dryly.

"I think we can help each other, Alex," Said Alistar. It seemed like a strange echo of Smithers' last parting words.

Alex wiped the boyish look from his face, and put on his best business-spy face. His brown eyes instantly became cold. Each of the other three people in the room took notice of the change, and though did not show it outside, they were intrigued, and a bit impressed of the fourteen-year-old.

"What would you like me to do?" Stated Alex, blank faced.

"There is a man named General. He does not have a real name that anyone alive knows. We need you to find out that name." Said Alistar like they were talking about the weather.

"I'll do it." was his prompt reply. "On two conditions," the quick answer startled the other three people in the room. "I want to know exactly how much information you know about me, and that you'll help me with a mission of my own."

"The first one can be done quite easily." Replied Alistar slowly, "What is your mission?"

"To attack MI6 headquarters in London and target Alan Blunt." said Alex, without hesitation.

For the umpteenth time, the three other people in the room were surprised. Alistar took a few seconds to ponder the new implications of this statement, while Vladia covered for him.

"The only way to get to Alan Blunt is to get into the real International headquarters of MI6. You know where that is? " Said Vladia.

"Yes." After a while, you simply got used to being surprised in Alex's presence.

"In my files about you, it only said that you went to a local branch to get your orders." Glared Miri.

"I once hacked into the MI6 database."

"Does MI6 know you hacked into their records?" Inquired Alistar.

"Yes, but they think I only had time to see my file before I was locked out again. You see, 'cause the codes change every few hours, and you need to hack in again." Alex's eyes danced.

"How much did you actually read?"

"Not that much," said Alex. "All you need to know is that I know where the International Headquarters of MI6 is located; and, how to get the information that you want about the General."

"Why shouldn't we just torture the information out of you?" Said Miri suspiciously.

A charming smile broke across Alex's emotionless face. "Because then you'll miss my good wit and charm." A small smirk graced Alistar's lips at the statement, however the gazes' of the unfaltering women caused him to improve on his already lacking statement. "Also because I don't have the information, MI6 does. You won't get answers from torturing me. You'll never get into MI6's headquarters alone. For that, you'll need me willingly. Plus, I'm very resistant to torture, and if you try, I'm useless to you dead."

"You're also useless to yourself, dead." pointed out Vladia.

Alex chose to ignore that statement. They wouldn't kill him when he could be so useful to them. He looked at Alistar who had remained quiet throughout the interrogation. "We can help each other." Alex repeated.

"How do we know it's not a trap?" Glared Miri.

"If your contacts are half as good as I think they are, you already know why I would never help MI6, ever again."

Vladia's face had no expression, but her eyes flicked from Alex to Miri to Alistar. Miri glared at Alex suspiciously. Alistar still had a contemplative face on, and he looked at Vladia for her opinion.

"From what I can see, he is truthful, at least at present; he will never work for MI6 again. He was lying when he said he did not know much of the information in the MI6 database; but he was being truthful about not having the information we need."

Alex had heard about agents trained specially in the detection of lies, but it seems today, he had met a master. "I didn't think it mattered how much other information I knew. I do not know the General's name, which is what you asked for. In order to find out, we really do need to get into the MI6 headquarters." There was a nod from Vladia, saying he was telling the truth. "Since the last time I breached their database from a local branch, they've made the database only accessible in the International headquarters, where we _must _go. The codes now change every hour instead of every five, so we don't have that much time."

"I'll help you, but you need to help me." Repeated Alex.

"I don't think we should trust him," was Miri's opinion. "But then again, I don't trust anyone." That was probably as close to a yes as it got.

"You've got yourself a deal, Alex." said Alistar. "When should we start?"

"Now. But first, I want to know exactly how much information you know about me."

"Vladia will show you all our files on you this afternoon. Let's talk about our specific plans over breakfast right now. I'm hungry." Suggested Alistar.

"Truthfully, so am I." Responded Alex, glad the meeting was over. He hopped he played the part well enough.

"Let's go eat." He then turned to Vladia, "Vladia, please have the files of Alex Rider and everything we have on MI6 headquarters you have on the table of my study. Also include any other files you find necessary." Turning to Miri, "You know what to do. But be polite to Pierre. Try, at least, for me."

Vladia and Miri nodded, though Miri gave him another glare.

All the people in the room emptied out, two going to the kitchen, one going to the office, and another to meet a certain Pierre guy...

**I know! Finally an update! But I have excuses. BTW This story will DEFINITELY be finished. I've even finished writing the very last chapter. Just saying, I think you'll love it. **_**I **_**love it, but I might be just a tiny bit biased. **

**Anyway, I'll leave you with this interesting thought:**

**MACBETH rhymes with DEATH,**

**and**

**ROMEO rhymes with WOE.**

**Please review; if only because I took all the time to type all this. **


	12. The Intelligence Agencies

Chapter Eleven

The Intelligence Agencies

******(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. I'm just borrowing it. Everything is hereby disclaimed.**

**This chapter was really hard for me to write. I wrote in about a hundred different settings because I had something as close to writer's block as you could get. It's still not as brilliant as I'd like it to be, but if I had my way, it would probably be a year before you guys actually got an update, so here it is. **

**It is, what it is.**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0959 March 20th**

Miri respected Alistar and all, but she thought that he trusted people too easily. Like that time in Rome when they'd first met, and he'd trusted her on sight. They were on opposite sides of the spy game, but when things didn't go to plan for either of them and they got trapped underground, he had helped her, and even trusted her with his life. Infuriating, really.

He was so annoying. Afterward, without her saying a word, he seemed to understand her situation, and had faked her death, buried her family nicely, and even brought her a new life in France. He complicated things so much, that disgustingly trustworthy, intelligent, and composed man. When she'd finally got up the courage to ask why, he merely said "curiosity". She would die for him, but she'd never admit that to anyone, ever.

She briskly walked outside and dropped inside the limo, slamming the door with her normal bad mood. Her extremely annoying fancy dress almost got caught in the door. This new Alex Rider was bad news. He's wanted by practically every organization in the world, legal or illegal; and Alistar had shielded him, helped him, and trusted him practically on sight—again. She didn't like how the little spy even had the nerve to ask for another favour of his own. True, she didn't think he would have agreed so easily, but that just made her surer that Alex Rider was keeping things to himself.

This, of course, made her madder that right now she was risking her life, in order to save his. _He'd better be worth it._

She just hoped her own photographic memory and fighting skills, plus Vladia's knack of knowing when people told the truth would be enough to get Alistar out of this alive. She snapped at the driver to go faster, as the quicker she was done with Pierre, the quicker she could get back to La Valise, the Gregorovich's mansion, to participate in the planning, and keep an eye on the intelligent and sly Alex Rider.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0959 March 20th**

Pierre rubbed his head where he had been hit yesterday. _Stupid Kid. _His head still hurt from the blow that had knocked him out. If things hadn't gone exactly as planned yesterday, minus his mild concussion, he would still be sore about the blow to his ego. As it was, he had snapped at Alistar when he called, and refused to give him more time. He then demanded that they got a move on. He'd also told Alistar that the mission he was to give the boy was to find out the name of the General.

So, since Pierre had demanded that a detailed report would be given today, Alistar was sending his second-in-command, someone by the name of Miri. Strange name for a man, thought Pierre.

At 10:00 exactly, the machine of his desk beeped, and the voice of his secretary announced, "A Miss Miri to see you, sir."

"Send hi—her right up." He said. _A woman? He_ thought.

Already he started underestimating her, which was, exactly like Alistar planned.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on his door. "Come in." He said.

The door was smoothly opened, by a dazzling woman in a bright red cocktail dress. She wore no other jewellery other than a large jewel in her hair that pinned her soft curls up elegantly, which made her even more alluring. Pierre found himself speechless, and unable to do anything other than gape.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**1030 March 20th**

Half an hour later, Miri found herself back in the limo. She'd given Pierre almost no information at all. A few words like "working on it" and "slowly and steadily" had gotten rid of him pretty easily. Of course, the promise of seeing more of her if the process was "slow and steady" might have something to do with it.

It was almost too easy. He'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book: seduction. Surely the man sent by the DGSE couldn't be that stupid? She then remembered the rather ugly bump on his head. He didn't seem smart, but he was the DGSE...

Miri shrugged her uneasiness off. Right now, her main problem was Alex Rider. The DGSE man could be dealt with later, but Alex Rider... filled her with irritation. He was dangerous, and though he hid it well through a young exterior and charming smiles, sometimes, the look in his eyes could make you kill.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0600 March 18****th**** London, England (Two days ago)**

Mrs. Jones had lost her composure for the second time in a month. In less than a week to be exact.

"You let Alex _escape_?" She was blinking sleep from her eyes—as she'd just received a call from Blunt to get to headquarters—but she still managed to look fierce, and really, _really_, pissed.

Blunt was doing his best not to grimace. He was just as pleased as her at this turn of events._ He_ didn't have a manager to blame it on. "We did not _let _him escape. He escaped by himself." As if this difference mattered.

"I warned you Blunt, Alex—" Mrs. Jones was at a loss of words. She so felt angry, bitter, and above all, _frustrated_. She barely managed to stop herself from saying 'I told you so'. God, this was crazy, and late, and frustrating. She sighed, well more like growled, and slowly got control of her temper.

She sat down on Blunt's chair, as he had stood up when she'd entered with a loud noise, proclaiming her feelings at being called up at this ungodly hour. For once, Blunt didn't complain.

She still couldn't look at Blunt. Breathe in. Breathe out. "Explain. Now."

Blunt stood, looking uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. She could tell he knew he'd messed up big time, but didn't want to admit it. Blunt used his best monotone voice.

"After our chat on the 12th, Alex went home. He behaved normally. He'd stay in his room, grieved for the passing of his guardian, made meals ect. only leaving the house for necessities. He spent most of the time cleaning the rather large house from top to bottom. Our psychologist said it was a normal way to cope with the bad news, to find something physical to do, and get his mind off her death."

Mrs. Jones snorted. She couldn't help it, as she'd already guessed what Alex was also doing during his "cleaning" of the entire house.

He tried to explain himself. "Alex did do a lot of cleaning. We actually have quite an impressive amount of tape of him scrubbing and dusting." At Mrs. Jones' glare to get on with it, he quickly added, "The best picture we currently have of him is one with him cleaning a particularly dusty ceiling light. We thought it was a great stroke of luck that he happened to look directly at the hidden camera, getting a great picture, but now... we know it's more than coincidence."

Mrs. Jones felt like yelling again, since Blunt was taking forever to get to the point.

"Anyway, he was pretending to clean while really testing the precautions around his house. Today, at 0301, between the changing of the guards between the front and back yards, he implemented his escape."

"How did Alex get past all of the 30 guards, pressure pads, cameras, trip wires, including all of the backup?" Mrs. Jones asked, though it came out more scathing than she'd intended.

"He got taught how to bypass most of the standard sensors in the SAS. We believe Scorpia must have taught him how to get into or out of places that are heavily guarded as part of his assassin training. But, I find this the most shocking, he got past the laser grid around his house."

Mrs. Jones skipped a beat. "You managed to erect a laser grid around his house in the time span of ... five days?" Mrs. Jones said incredulously.

"It was a special job I gave to Smithers right after our little...disagreement, over Alex."

Mrs. Jones felt a bit her anger deflate. "So you actually listened to me. For once."

"You were right Tulip."Blunt didn't like admitting he was wrong, but if it was what would get her back to his side... He paused, letting her feel the importance of that statement. "You know how much I hate to admit that, but we really are in a bad situation. If Alex goes rouge-"

"You're upsetting me Blunt. You, admitting you were wrong? You?" Mrs. Jones couldn't say she was really surprised. Blunt always did what was best for him, and right now, he really needed her. She sighed. "Blunt, we've known each other for so long, yet I can't even tell if you're being truly sorry right now, or it's just another of your mind games. Maybe you're only saying it now to me because it's better to admit it to me now, than to admit it in front of a panel of judges that will have you arrested."

Blunt's face closed off, more than usual. When he spoke, it was very coldly. "And what crime have I committed to be arrested for?"

Mrs. Jones shrugged, knowing that if she didn't remain composed, Blunt would not. "Oh I don't know... maybe blackmail, illegal usage of a minor, murder, assault and battery of innocent bystanders?"

Blunt barely flinched at the inhumane acts thrown at him. "And who would alert them of this crime?"

"One of your victims could tell, any employee here could tell if they weren't afraid of losing their job and families. Maybe even your precious Smithers, he probably has enough in this building taped to actually have evidence about what happens."

"What exactly are you trying to imply?"

"I'm saying it, not implying it. Alan, I'm not going to tattle. Whatever people say about you, you've always been great to me, and even if your methods aren't perfect, you usually get the job done. You've saved a lot of civilians... but you could always treat your employees better. Perhaps blackmail shouldn't be the main incentive to work for MI6."

Blunt didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"Don't try to feed me some bullshit. Look, just this week, Greene completed a mission—it shouldn't even be called a mission, but cold-blooded murder—and he was blackmailed into doing it. Alex was blackmailed—for over four missions in a row. They are our two worst cases. But even the other employees—they're paid, but you also give them, what you call, and 'extra incentive'."

"How did you find out?" Blunt's tone could freeze a polar bear.

"That is not the question. The question is what are you going to do now? We wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't blackmailed Alex from the start."

"Are you implying—" he began hotly.

"Yes."Mrs. Jones interrupted. She looked him straight in the eye, refusing to look away, knowing that she was right. "Blunt, call a Red Alert if you want; but remember this: Alex isn't the first, and he won't be the last to rebel if you continue to treat your employees this way. In the future, when someone older, more experienced, and more connected than Alex rebels because you've pushed them too far, I would not want to be in your place." For the second time in a month, or a week to be exact, Mrs. Jones stormed out of the room.

Blunt felt like punching something. He hadn't felt such a strong emotion in a long time. If that was the way she wanted it, fine. He had tried admitting his mistake, to get her back on his side, but it hadn't worked. Now he'll just have to do it his way—the direct and violent way.

He set about contacting people to officially call the Red Alert, and tried to ignore all of his boiling emotions. He ignored the fact that he was really surprised that Mrs. Jones could smell like anything other than peppermint. He tried to ignore the fact that he was only concentrating on her smell because he didn't want to admit that she was right. And above all, he was trying to ignore the image that kept on going through his mind whenever he thought of what he was about to do: an image forever etched into his mind: of a brown-eyed teenage boy looking at him with loathing, disgust, and more than anything—hurt. It was the look of someone who had been betrayed and utterly broken.

Alan Blunt hoped he'd never see have to see that look again.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**Our plot's almost come full circle. I don't think there will by any other (confusing-ish) flashbacks, so this story is really moving. Thanks for reading, and I'd_ really_ appreciate it if you told me what you think. Anything's good. Just say: "It was surprising that Mrs. Jones didn't smell like peppermint" or something equally short and random, and you would still make my day. **

**PS: If you want updates on how this story is going, check my profile. I update it infrequently on how my writing process if going, AND if I have any other stories planned. **


	13. Of Planning and Plotting

Chapter Twelve

The Plan

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize... which isn't much. *pauses and looks into distance* Huh, interesting. *looks back at you* Anyway, don't sue.**

**A/N: By the way, this is unbetaed, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes/typos. You'll know who to blame! *ducks behind very, very, long chapter* **

**Catch me at the bottom!**

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0810 March 20****th**

Alistar and Alex spent their time plotting.

Well, they had to do other stuff first, but both were already starting to have plans form in their minds.

After a surprisingly simple meal of waffles, bacon, and eggs, they exchanged information about the mission in Alistar's study, waiting for Vladia to bring the necessary files.

Alex went first, because he was, after all, the guest.

"MI6's headquarters are complicated. They are usually located underground; with a normal business on street level which they use as a cover." Like a bank, Alex added silently. "Access is virtually impossible in these headquarters without detection, because of the limited entrances and exits, with various machines and guards who are by no means inexperienced. That is just what is expected in normal headquarters."

"The local branch I was in contact with used a bank on street level as their cover. The offices of employees were high in the building, but the real planning, debriefing, gadgets, and surveillance rooms were all underground—as was the database I hacked into."

"With the international headquarters, it gets trickier; though, there is good news, and bad news."

Alistar raised an eyebrow as if to say "There's actually _good news_ when you're trying to break into one of the most secure facilities in the world?"

Alex flickered a smile. "Bad news first though, and it's pretty bad. All security measures are tripled in the International Headquarters. That may not sound like much, but it's harder to crack than the Louvre." Alistar's eyebrows would have raised more had they not been already raised from the previous comment.

"They have extremely well trained guards who all have high clearance and have served in the field numerous times. Their surveillance is the best, a completely closed circuit feed, which is impossible to hack into from the outside." Alistar held back his question of how they were going to get in. "The good news is with so many different confidential people there who wish to remain anonymous; no guards would stop you and ask for identification."

"Meaning, if we managed to get in safely, we are not likely to be stopped." clarified Alistar.

"Exactly."

"So that just leaves us with the trouble of getting in. And since security's so tight, the only way we'd get in and _stay _in is if we were undetected." Thought Alistar out loud.

There was a long silence as they both thought. Alistar about how they were going to get in, and Alex how he was going to break his already formulated plan to him.

Alex cleared his throat. "I, uh, have a few calls to make, but I am sure we can get in without too much hassle on your part." Being Blunt was easier and faster.

Vladia took this as her cue to enter with a head high stack of files on each hand and another stack on top of both of them, like a bridge. The stack was almost taller than her, and once again Alex found himself reminded that he shouldn't underestimate his allies.

"Alex," said Vladia once she's set the files down on the table in front of them and started separating them into further piles, "I have all of the files about you that you requested." She pointed at about six or seven piles. "I also took the liberty to add those" again, she pointed, "all about MI6. I think they would be helpful. That is a list of phone numbers to various—people—that you may find useful as reference." Vladia pursed her lips, thoughtful. "I still think we're missing something. Please excuse me."

With a quick glance at Alistar, seeming to convey a message, she swept from the room.

Alex looked at the vast amounts of paper and wondered how Alistar could get all of this. In paper too.

Alex ignored the piles of folders labelled "Rider, Alex John (MI6, CIA, ASIS)", and focused on the piles on MI6. Alex did this deliberately in case this was a test posed by Alistar.

Now it was Alistar's turn to share information. Alex didn't even need to say anything, at his look, Alistar started talking. _Even more intelligent than I thought, _mused Alex, _he's also learned how to read body language from a pro._

"How much do we know about you? A lot." Alistar took a deep breath, wanting to say everything as quickly as possible. "First off, we know everything about you that MI6 chose to share with the intelligence agencies." Now it was Alex's turn for his eyebrows to go up. That information was highly classified. And it was practically everything there was to know about him. Minus the blackmailing, of course.

"You've probably already come to the conclusion..." continued Alistar slowly, gauging Alex's reaction, "I have a contact in the DGSE." Alex nodded slowly. It was the reasonable deduction.

"From him, we know of your accomplishments in each of your missions. We know your skills and abilities such as how many languages you speak, your fighting abilities, etc. However, we don't know that much about you personally."

Alex made a mental note that they knew about SCORPIA. When he'd met Alistar, he didn't know about the death of his father, but if he had the files, wouldn't he have found out? Something didn't quite add up. A member of the DGSE was willing to be a contact for a small French terrorist group? It had to be someone with high clearance too, to see his files.

"You know that I think MI6 betrayed me though?" This, Alex felt, was important to make clear. He had to show that he'd never betray them to MI6. Make them trust him, even if he didn't completely, yet, trust them.

Alistar hesitated slightly as he answered, wondering how to phrase it. "MI6 told them that your only family died, and that because of it there was a misunderstanding. You seem to blame them for their death." Alistar was very curious as to what information Alex would share on this topic since MI6's response was severely lacking in details.

Alex just looked at him sadly. "They betrayed me." he repeated, "I know there wasn't a misunderstanding because MI6 admitted what they'd done to me themselves. They thought I couldn't get away, but I did." It was slightly chilling.

"How?"

"I had some inside help," smiled Alex.

"Is that the same person who will help us get into the international headquarters?"

"Maybe." He felt he'd given enough information.

Alistar realized that Alex was done sharing, it was probably very personal, and concluded. "That is all we know of you. Plus what we've observed over the past two days."

Alex thought to himself it was good that he'd asked Alistar how much they knew of him. It would make hiding things easier, knowing what they knew and what they didn't. This session of trading information, though short, had a lot of information—most of it not in words. Alex needed sometime to figure out exactly how he was going to proceed; exactly what he would hide, what he would share, and how to time everything perfectly.

"I think that's a great start, Alistar. Do you mind if I take some of these files with me to my room to study?"

"I'll show you to your own study. It's much easier to organize all of the files and I'm sure you'd prefer a bit more technology."

"That would be great." Alistar was getting kind of creepy with his knack of knowing what Alex wanted.

Alistar showed him to a door on the other side of the hallway, and led him into a study almost exactly the same as his, except without as much paper piled on the desks. There were large book shelves, a large comfy chair in front of window with a desk in front, and two smaller wooden chairs on the other side. On the desk was a state of the art computer, and a rather old, ornate looking phone sitting in it's cradle.

"Ring if you need anything. I'll be across the hall." Said Alistar.

Before he left, Alex turned and asked, "I'll need some of the files Vladia bought, how, exactly-" Alex thought of the head-high stack of paper.

Alistar's eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile. "I honestly don't know how Vladia does it either. If she shows up again, I'll ask her to move them into your study. Until then, all of the pages were scanned and placed in that laptop in front of you. You may use that."

"That is great." said Alex thinking that this little group had more to it than meets the eye. "Does this phone work internationally? There are a few calls I have to make."

"Of course. I'll come in to check with you from time to time." It was a small warning, phrased as a question.

"Sounds great," Alex settled into the chair the laptop in front of him, watching Alistar leave.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**1400 March 20****th**

Alex slowly read through all the files making small notes in a notepad from a drawer. When he was done, he rubbed his temple. That was a lot of information. Whatever Alistar said about himself only leading a small gang, this gang had very good contacts, and even better information.

Alex picked up the phone and dialled a tiny number stitched onto the lapel of his windbreaker.

A jovial voice answered. "Intent Windbreakers, how may I help you?"

"Wait—Smithers?" Rain had partly washed away the instructions that had been given to him, so he hoped this was right.

"Al—" Smithers stopped short of saying his name. Alex held his breath, hopping Smithers wouldn't betray him. But he hadn't in the woods, so this shouldn't be different. "Alfred," continued Smithers, getting over his shock, "It's great to hear from you! How's life in Austrailia?"

"Great." Responded Alex, catching on. Someone else was listening, so they had to be careful. "There are kangaroos and everything. Mom told me they had special pouches and stuff!" Alex made his voice fill with boyish excitement. For a moment, he actually sounded like a fourteen year old.

"I'm glad you're having fun. I wasn't aware that you had this number. Didn't I give you a special number?"

"I couldn't find it, because I'm so messy. I think it ended up in one of my shoes that got soaked in the rain, so I couldn't read the paper properly." The piece of paper with Smither's number had actually been hidden in the secret compartment of his shoe. What actually happened was when Alex took it out to read, it started raining, and the special paper dissolved on contact with water. Hopefully Smithers would get the gist of his response.

"Dear, dear, Alfred. Next time, give the number to your mother so she doesn't lose it, or keep it in a better place."

"I will." Said Alex, "I pinky swear. Can you tell me your number again?"

"I don't want anyone else to know this number. It's my private line, specially for you and your mommy."

"Pleeeaaaassseeee?" Alex dragged the word out like any ten year old boy would. Or a whiny fourteen year-old. Alex knew the real reason Smithers said that was to get whoever was listening to their conversation to stop for a few seconds, enough for them to share a phone number.

Sure enough, from the other side of the line, there was a faint conversation. "Dan, just give me and my nephew a few minutes alone. I just want to ask him about my sister, give him my real phone number so this doesn't happen again, and chat for a few minutes about kangaroos—the boy loves them."

There was a faint response that Alex couldnt' make out.

"I know I'm not supposed to get my work and personal life mixed up. Do you think I gave my nephew this number? This number was for emergencies, and I only gave it to my sister."

"I don't know! You heard the boy, he lost the other number he was supposed to call me by. He might have found this number in his mom's room. You were a boy too, Dan! Don't tell me you didn't take a look around your mom's room."

A barely heard sigh.

"Just a few minutes. A quick chat, and another number for him to call in the future."

"It's not that I don't trust you. I don't want _everyone _to know my personal phone number. I do want my personal and work lives separate, thank you very much."

"Remember those weeks when your girlfriend was going to break up with you? You called every five minutes—not exaggerating. A new security regulation shouldn't change our friendship."

"Just two minutes. Tops. Come on."

"Fifteen seconds? Fifteen seconds? That's—"

"Fine. That will be just enough to squeeze in my phone number. You still owe me..."

"Alfred m'boy? You there?"

"Uncle?" Asked Alex, taking care to make his voice sound as boyish as possible.

"I'm going to tell you my real phone number again, and this time, don't lose it, okay?"

"Gotcha."

"Get a pencil ready,"

"Um, uh, sure." Alex had already had his pen and paper poised in front of him.

He heard a faint voice say "Fifteen seconds start now."

"Here goes: 011-86-791-636-1518-1938"

Alex copied it down quickly and also committed it to memory.

"Al, if you need any help—_any help at all_—call me and I'll do my best."

Alex heard, "Your fifteen seconds are up."

"Thanks so much Uncle! Bye-bye."

"Bye Alfred."

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**1500 March 20****th**

"How's the plotting coming along?" as promised, Alistar came to check on Alex.

"Mediocre. Some contacts are harder to reach than others," explained Alex, thinking _especially when you don't know their phone numbers_. "Have anything new?"

"A couple of Interpol files revealed some interesting information about the General." Deadpanned Alistar. Alex's head went blank for a second until he remembered that the General was the man whose real name they were after. The whole point of their mission. "It seems he has a…woman of some sort he was involved with."

Alex whistled, having an emotional tie to someone in this line of business could mean the difference between life or death. _So was Blunt helping you when he killed Jack?, _spoke the evil part of his mind, _Shut up!, _he told it.

"Scotland Yard also had an interesting timbit." Alistar leaned against the mohagany chair across the desk from Alex, gripping each side of it's back with his hands. "They have evidence that Blunt has been in contact with terrorist groups."

"So?" frowned Alex, "He's the head of MI6, almost all intelligence agencies have some information exchanges with a few shady organizations."

Alistar stepped closer, his hands on the edge of the chair, pushing it forward, leaning across the desk. "He has had numerous contact with several _mercenary _terrorist groups." Seeing that this didn't affect Alex's demour at all, he expanded, "Why would the head of MI6 need to use other people, when his own are probably better trained, better hidden, and even harder to trace back to him? He wouldn't—unless he was using the mercenaries against his own people."

Alex sucked in a quick breath. His mind was piecing together everything he had heard, plus everything Smithers had told him. Smithers' previous words came back to him, "not everyone is impressed with the way MI6 is becoming…Blunt has overstepped his power on several occasions…you're not the only one…" Suddenly, Alex felt like he had been so stupid. A bubble finally popped in his head.

"Blackmail."

"Exactly." Alistar let go of the chair and it struck the polished wooden flooring with a sharp thud.

"But for what?" breathed Alex, "Why would he want to blackmail his own people?" His subconscious already started shoving images of past events under his nose. All of the things he had done… lists of all his accomplishments the had found in Alistar's files about him…

Alistar shrugged, a determined look on his face. "That's just another thing for us to find out."

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**2357 March 20th**

After meditating a bit, Alex's head felt like it finally wouldn't explode with the amount of information in it, he felt calmer. Or at least like he wouldn't implode like popcorn. He had to call Smithers.

Alex realized that things in MI6 were heating up. Security was worse than ever if a fellow worker wouldn't even let Smithers have a few seconds for his family. Alex waited until he was sure Smithers would be away from work to call: at 12 O'clock at night. No one had disturbed his work, including an entire wall dedicated to blue prints, diagrams, and strings of numbers, except to bring him food and refreshments. He had been told that pressing 1 on the phone also gave him access to the servant's quarters, and to call if he needed anything further. He didn't need anything other than a very successful call with Smithers.

"Hello?" mumbled a very tired man at the other end of the line.

"Smithers?" whispered Alex. "I need your help."

"I thought as much." Grumbled Smithers, though he sounded happy, nonetheless. "I'm always glad to help lad, but why the hour?"

"Sorry, I wanted to make sure we weren't overheard."

"We?"

"I have found some company also."

"Ah." It was imposible to discern emotion from that tiny exclaimation.

"And I have a plan. I don't think I should share the details, but it concerns what you told me before—during a very important night of my life."

"I'm following…"

"Are you sure we cannot be overheard here?"

"I am positive. Unless there is someone standing right behind you, no one will know of our conversation."

Paranoia made Alex look around the room again, but it was brightly lit, and unless someone was hidden right behind the curtains, he would not be overheard. Not that it truly mattered if his allies overheard this part of the conversation.

"You said you were… made aware of certain events in Blunt's office. I was wondering, would you have any recordings of some particular occurrences which Blunt might not like to be made public?"

"…Alex, you don't want to anger the head of one of the strongest military intelligence agencies in the world. I don't think I want to either."

"Smithers-"

"Blunt won't be happy if footage of him blackmailing people leaked out. There are very few people with access to stuff like that. He's the head of MI6, he's not an easy man to anger."

"If my plan works, I don't think he'll _be _head anymore."

A very long pause, then..."I'm listening."

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**A/N The longest chapter yet, I hope you enjoyed! (3500 words, holy smack!)**

**Also, if there was any confusion, THIS STORY SHALL BE COMPLETED FOR SURE. 100%. GUARANTEED . I cannot promise how often I will update, as school and life have made it their mantra to interfere, but I do promise that there will always be an update-until this story is completed. **

**~Blown**


	14. The International Headquarters of MI6

**THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! (because you've obviously been redirected here after doing so or soon-to-be-doing-so, right? :P )**

Chapter Thirteen

The International Headquarters of MI6

**A/N: Writer's block, I shall write an ode proclaiming your annoying-ness (sometime, in the future, when I have time). Writing a break-in of one of the most secure facilities in the world should have been electrifying. Instead, I felt like my brain was being pulled out of each of my ears in long, tangled strings by two snails, each going in opposite directions. Once I get rid of the snails, preferably violently, and put back the pieces of my scattered and slightly feverish brain, I will hopefully have something productive to say about this chapter. For now, you'll just have to read it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I'm not making any money. Um, did I miss anything? **

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

**0700 March 30th**

All the hairs on Alex were standing up. They'd been like that for a while. In fact, the new jet black hair he sported did nothing to calm his nerves for it caused him to swing his head around every two seconds, thinking that he saw something move. Of course, then he'd realize it was just the lanky, puffs of black hair that looked like shadows. _This is getting ridiculous, _he thought wearily, knowing that a few days ago, he might have even laughed at himself. But not now.

He took the lead, and even though Alistar was hesitant to let him do so, a glare from Miri seemed to avert whatever thoughts he had. Alex would have to keep an eye on her. He hadn't liked the glances that she's been shoot at both him and Alistar.

They were walking down one of the many confusing hallways in the lower level of the headquarters, and so far, everything had gone to plan. The detailed maps, confusing diagrams, and all-around tips Smithers supplied were so helpful, Alistar & crew had been most suspicious. In fact, most of their "planning" time had been Alex trying to convince them that the information he received was true. Feeling like they were getting nowhere, Alex had calmly and generously offered to break into MI6 alone, but Alistar, after a lengthy pause, said that he would go too. And finally, it was decided.

"Five." Said Alex, crouching beside the wall.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"Move!"

The four of them shot across the intersection and crouched at the other side, near a green compost bin. "We stay three seconds here, then head in front of that picture frame over there." Dictated Vladia. They had all memorized the sequence, but since Vladia was the one with the photographic memory, she said what their next movement was every time.

After three seconds, "Move." Said Alex, and they all shot across the hall, crouching by the picture. "In twenty-three seconds, move to the purple sticker."

Let's explain the crouching. Normally, MI6 headquarters didn't have decorations, but important people complain if they have to stay somewhere that has only grey wallpaper. Especially if they have to stay at said place for extended periods of time for their "safety". So, paintings, sculptures, small floral lamps and a middle band had been put on the walls. All the paintings and lamps were above the middle band, and all the sculptures were below.

Since there were way too many people in the headquarters for Smithers to loop entire sections of the building's footage at once. Instead, he hid sections of the wall. Since the bottom of the walls were the same shade, it was easier to do. The only problem with this was that they had to avoid the statues while keeping in time with the guards and guests.

Most people thought breaking into one of the most secure facilities in the world was exciting. Instead, just a load of diagrams and calculations, counting and crouching and staying in the same positions for extended periods of time.

"Move." Said Alex again, and they darted back across the hallway on the left of a purple sticker Smithers had put there for this purpose.

"Only seven more moves." Said Alistar encouragingly. All of them were getting sore, and Miri seemed particularly impatient.

"In fifteen-seconds we have to split into groups of two, one going around to the left and the other to the right, meeting up at intersection B37. There can be no sound from here on out." Vladia dictated.

"Miri go with Vladia, and I'll go with Alex." Said Alistar.

"I'd rather stay with you." Said Miri.

"Vladia and Alex know the sequence the best. Now—"

"Move!" said Alex, dashing right and not caring who followed.

Alistar was right behind. He made the gesture for "all's well" and "others went left".

Alex nodded, then pointed at their next landmark, a stain in the wall.

He tapped Alistar one time for each of the last seconds and they rolled over to the spot.

They kept on going, and Alex's earpiece buzzed. "Hey Al" came the jovial voice of Smithers. "You're doing well, everything's covered. This just means you're in the computer rooms. The access panel you want is just 30 meters to your left. In 5 meters you'll meet up with your comrades. 12 seconds after the meet up you can talk again."

Alex nodded, making the sign at Alistar that meant he had received the message from Smithers.

30 meters and 4 minutes later, they stood near the entrance to the access panel. From here, it was guarded by three sets of rotating 360 degree lasers. Alex had spent the better part of a week preparing for this. He had memorized the sweeps from a simulation Smithers had smuggled out. It was a fairly simple pattern, jump, jump, roll, flip. He'd practiced every day until he could do each perfectly, while Alistar and Miri watched with interest.

Now it was time to put his training to the test. He tensed. Alistar patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"Good luck."

No one said another word. There wasn't much to say. He either did it or didn't. He didn't want to think about what they would to a caught Red Alert fugitive—in their own headquarters nonetheless.

Alex slowly removed all gadgets and items on his body until all that was left was a skin tight suit. Vladia gathered them all up while Miri kept watch and time.

He stood at the circular entrance, looking in and seeing the small grooves on the walls that slowly rotated. It was dark too, so he'd have to rely on his other senses for distance. Before he could think too much, Miri said, "Move."

Alex jumped.

Waited the proper millisecond, and jumped again.

He could _feel _the lasers around him, even if he couldn't see anything. They crackled and gave off heat, creating gusts of wind that blew his annoying hair. Counting to two, he rolled.

The immediately did a flip in the air. Alex teetered, not finding his balance. A laser came particularly close, burning an eyelash with its proximity. He'd practiced on soft flat floor, not used to the curved landing.

Without truly getting his balance, Alex jumped. Then jumped again. After the roll, Alex finally got his balance. Then another flip, but this time he was ready for the ground. Another two jumps, and that should bring him to the panel.

He held his breath.

Jump.

Jump.

A bead of sweat dripped off of Alex's forehead and plopped on the floor. Other than that, there was just the harsh sound of his breathing. Stepping on the safe platform in front of the panel, MI6 technicians did not like to do work on curved ground, Alex caught his breath.

He's been more nervous than he'd thought. Turning, he waved at Alistar watching from the entrance.

Alistar made a questioning signal.

Alex made the sign for "ready".

Though getting to the platform was tricky, this was the most dangerous part of their plan. Alex couldn't get through the laser maze with the electronic equipment on him, so now they had to be taken apart and thrown to him, piece by piece, through the one foot opening at the top of the laser maze. He had to catch each piece and reassemble them at the other side.

If anything touched the lasers, it would be incinerated and alarms would sound. And Alex would be trapped between a ton of reinforced steel and escape.

The wires came first.

Whizz.

The whirled through the air, dipping once below the one foot distance. Luckily, the laser had rotated to another place. Alex caught it without incident.

Then came the encryption breaker.

Soon, they had a rhythm going. It was less nerve wracking.

Once everything other than once piece was there, Alex started piecing them together. It took a long time, everything had been put into bundles to be easily thrown in. Alistar looked on patiently, Vladia kept watch now, while Miri's gaze darted back and forth.

At last, in ten more minutes, he had it assembled. It wasn't pretty, but Alex was proud he'd gotten everything right, and remembered all the names of the things in the MI6 database panel. Finally, he turned to Alistar, making the "finished and waiting" sign.

Time for Alistar to give him the last piece.

Reaching into his black vest, Alistar brought out the microchip.

Alistar threw the chip at Alex, who caught it deftly.

Alex inserted it into the slot.

The jumble of wires and metal whirred to life.

Everyone held their breath.

Even Alistar looked stressed.

Alex bit his lip.

Five seconds later, there was a soft beep.

"It's done." Said Alex, letting out a huge breath.

It was done.

**Please review? **

**Even something random like "I see a green inflatable helicopter!" would make my day. Of course, for comparison's sake, constructive criticism will make me run screaming up and down stairs, eat a bunch of ice cream, then spontaneously combust with a huge smile on my face and um, (tries to think of something happy) sunshine and daisies and puppies!(I think I'm taking my hyperbole too far :P) Even flames have a certain warmth to them, so review!**

** With a please and a thank you. **


	15. Shoot

Chapter Fourteen

Shoot

**A/N Same old, same old. I suck at updating. I want to thank anyone who's reviewed, because you guys are amazing, wonderful people. I wanted to specially thank whoever "Honest Critique ()" was, because he/she gave a magnificently long review with some encouraging critism. **

Alex calmly removed the chip from the slot in the steel case and slid it into the inside pocket of his tight suit. Then, turning his back on Alistar, Miri, and Vladia, he started deftly rearranging the setup, pulling out specific wires and connecting them to others.

Alex could almost feel Alistar's eyes snap up, his sharp gaze boring a hole through the lasers and into Alex's back. What Alex was doing now was not part of the plan they'd agreed on. Alex thought he heard Miri hiss.

Alex wasn't going to hand over their part of the deal until he got his: a chance at Alan Blunt. Ignoring the deadly glares and developing murderous thoughts on the other side of the laser maze, Alex focused back on the panel. He turned away the screen and keyboard, instead opening a barely visible side panel on the wall. Taking out a special red wire from his pocket, he attached it to the cluster of blue, green, and yellow. Swiftly, Alex connected the other end to his handheld device, which was then attached to the keyboard by another wire. Alex worked furiously, typing different codes and commands into the provided keyboard, then the keyboard on his handheld device. After a few switches of the wires in the panel, and furious typing while connected to several different wire strands, Alex felt himself getting a little light headed.

A solid body of muscle crashed into him, sending him sprawling. Shaking dark hair out of his eyes, Alex realized half his body was off the granite platform and within the laser maze. Swinging his legs onto the platform again, Alex made a mad grab with his left hand in the general direction of his attacker and was rewarded with a stinging slap in the face. Seconds later, Alex felt a sickening kick to his groin. He ground his teeth to keep from making a sound and tried to roll away, knowing better than to get up and risk being pushed into the maze.

Crunch. Something metallic smashed into his exposed left hand, and Alex's pain-filled scream was cut short by a cloth ball stuffed into his mouth. Alex wiggled on the ground, reaching with his right hand…

Strike. A strong boot connected with his shoulder, rolling him over so his back was on the ground, and one leg dangled precariously over the edge. Alex could finally see his attacker's face—it was Miri. Her face was cold and expressionless, but her eyes blazed with a kind of insatiable hate. Drops of sweat coated her brow, and cuts welling with red coated her body. There was one word to describe that expression. Crazy.

Without thinking, without feeling, Alex reached with his right hand again…

And gripped his gun.

Instinctively, he shot Miri in the chest.

Twice.

Her body landed in a heap on the other side of the platform. Alex just lay there for a few moments, catching his breath. Miri did not move. Wincing and cradling his left hand, Alex hurriedly pulled Miri away from the edge of the platform so she would not be cut to pieces by the lasers, or worse, alert MI6 of their whereabouts.

Ignoring the part of him that whispered, _Scorpia trained you well… _Alex bent and felt for her pulse. Relief surged through him as he felt the tell-tale signs of life. When Smithers had asked what kind of weapon he wanted, Alex had requested and received a tranquilizer gun. Though not usually fatal, she could have died from overdose.

Alex then inspected his own injuries, groaning. Two fingers in his left hand were broken, with a bit of white bone poking out, and blood was flowing freely. He had bruises on his legs, hip, and stomach. A tooth was loose, and he doubted he could put much weight on his left shoulder now. His ribs protested at every move he made.

Trying to breathe in shallower breaths, Alex turned to face the entrance of the tunnel. Alistar's pallid face held no expression, but Vladia was white with grief.

Alex numbly made the motion for _She. Alive. _Then he brought out the chip of information on it, and gently threw it through the top of the tunnel. Alistar caught it in one hand.

Once he saw Alistar received the chip, he turned back to his goal. Careful about his injuries, Alex used one hand and disconnected all of the extra wires from his device. Instead, he attached them to another much smaller signal receiver.

Though it was true Alex couldn't bring all the technology while jumping through the lasers, he could bring a few, small, hidden ones.

The secret gadget he'd snuck in was a fist-sized shapeless lump could receive wireless video files and then project them into the MI6 database. He twisted the rather bulky strand of wire around the signal receiver to hide it and tucked it neatly into the existing panel. Alex double checked everything, and the panel closed with a clink.

Removing the last of his secret technologies, Alex took his device, ripped off a small chip, different than the one for Alistar, and attached the combination of chip and device to the lapel of his black suit so it could see what he saw.

Only then, when everything was secure, did he turn back towards the entrance. Alex's eyes widened at the form still waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. They had already gotten what they needed. So why were they still there?

_No chance of removing Miri safely? _Alistar signaled.

Alex hesitated before shaking his head. He wasn't sure if _he _could get through the maze alive, let alone carrying another person.

_Leave now. Can do. rest. myself. _Alex signalled sloppily, giving them a way out. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he could trust these people.

_No. _Alistar signaled back. _Come together, leave together._

The possibility would be that Alistar wanted to kill him after getting his end of the bargain. However, if he wanted Alex's death, all he had to do was shoot him while he was working on the electronics. If Alistar still wanted to use him as a weapon after this, at least Alex would be out of the MI6 Headquarters.

Taking another deep breath, Alex launched himself back into the circular tunnel.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

The moment Alex touched the other side, Vladia was on him. She precisely poked and prodded his injuries, wrapping clean gauze over his broken fingers with a make-shift splint. Using a particularly painful method, she cleaned his bruises and even reset his left shoulder which had become dislocated during the tumble through the laser maze.

Pale, with sheen of sweat over his brow, Alex panted.

_Still go on? _Alistar signaled.

Not knowing how to signal '_give me a moment', _or '_of course'_, Alex settled for nodding wearily. 

A few minutes later, they found Blunt's not-so-secret personal elevator. It was easier than the finding the hidden passage at Point Blanc. They all piled in.

It was so easy.

Their arrival was announced with a soft yet potentially deadly _ding_!

Too easy.


	16. The Final Confrontation

Chapter Fifteen

**Disclaimer: Don't own **

**A/N: **I've changed this chapter as of July 2nd, 2013. So if you read it before today, it may be good to reread the chapter for a more accurate picture of what transpired. The change doesn't affect the next chapter(s) of the story, but it's just an important event that has to occur for all the characters to be true to themselves.

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

Blunt's eyes snapped up when the elevator door opened with a soft sound. The painting to the right of his desk slid to the side, and out stepped the boy who he had been trying to find for the past twelve days. Barely able to turn the files in front of him over, he found himself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. He could feel the plastic of the emergency button digging into his leg, but he didn't know if the backup it would bring would reach him in time.

"Alex." Blunt said calmly, meeting the cold eyes. Despite being the obvious youth of the group it was clear who was in control of the situation and he addressed the teen as such.  
Alex said nothing, not wanting to have waste words. Alex took a seat opposite Blunt, the gun never wavering. Grey hair, grey eyes, grey suit, and grey office. Hatred surged through him when he took in the entirety of the man that was Alan Blunt.

"I know what you're feeling, Alex." Blunt said.

"What, you're trying for the 'understanding' tactic now?" his voice was light; but white hot anger rose in him. "Impressive. I didn't think you had it in you." Alex's dry sardonic tone clearly put an end to that tactic causing Blunt to shed whatever personality he was trying to pretend and the atmosphere in the room chilled.

"Alex, just kill him, and let's go." Alistar advised. "You don't want to talk to him—he's manipulative."

Alex spared one quick glance at Alistar, who had a look on him that he'd never seen before. He looked—calculative? The look reminded him sickeningly of the late Julia Rothman. Why it struck him so and why Alistar looked like that. He suddenly felt the pressure of the situation on him. So he took a deep breath and with a casual swipe, turned on the device in his windbreaker lapel.

"I want to know a few things first." Alex stated.

Blunt stayed silent. Calm eyes stared back at him.

"Why did you blackmail your top agents?" Alex demanded.

"Is that really the question? Alex, you certainly don't care about the blackmail. You only care about Jack Starbright." Blunt spoke her name with a seemingly casual air which just infuriated Alex further.

"Whom you murdered." Although his voice remained steady, Alex's knuckles were white around the gun.

"Murdered is such a cruel word, Alex. She was a sacrifice. An easy choice, I might add." Alex couldn't even bring himself to be surprised at his words, he'd expected nothing better.

"That just shows how little you care about human life."

"Alex, that just shows your naiveté. Do you really think blackmail is something people care about? I give select agents extra incentive. This saves thousands, even millions of lives." He paused to let his words sink in. "You are a prime example of that." Blunts tone was emotionless. Factual.

"And I'm such a great model of the average MI6 agent, aren't I? Being forced to point a gun at your head in order to protect both my fellow MI6 agents, and their families."

Blunt's pallid face held no expression. "Is that how you're justifying my murder? I've saved millions of lives."

"Doesn't feel like an easy choice when you're the one being murdered, no?" Alex gave a cruel laugh. "And you haven't saved any lives. The agents of MI6 have, despite the underhanded way you treat them."

Blunt leaned across the table, grey eyes focused on Alex. "No one cares about you Alex. No one will care about anything other than killing you, once you're declared as my murderer. If you do this, you will _never find peace_. You'll have to run. And everyone knows you can't run forever." Blunt hit the emergency button, and an alarm blared through the room.

Looking extremely grim, Alex said, "Al—you guys go."

Alistar dithered. "Alex—"

"Now." Or never. He left unsaid. Alex tightened his grip on the gun, holding it by his side, and never looking away from Blunt. "I'll distract them. Try to get Miri in the chaos, will you?"

Vladia had immediately opened the elevator the moment the alarm sounded. Alistar still regarded Alex. But when a hand pounded on the barricaded door, he slipped inside without a backward glance. Alex was about to turn too, when he felt his legs turn to jelly.  
Alex turned and saw the disappearance of a tranquilizer gun from between the elevator doors, just before they closed with a snap.

Betrayal.

He should have expected it. They were too small of an organization to have all those resources without working for a larger one. The world started to spin as the drug entered his system. His hands shakily went to his neck where a dart was embedded. As his body collapsed, he wondered if his plan had worked. Whom Alistar really worked for would only be a problem if he survived. But what he really cared about was whether he had succeeded in avenging Jack.

The world grew blurry, and he had a bitter taste in his mouth. He thought he was suffocating but he coughed and saw white foam coming out of his mouth. It was tinged pink with blood. When the men finally burst into the room, they didn't hesitate, even over his obviously poisoned body. He was searched, forced to the ground, and handcuffed.

Blunt was saying something all the while and then the door burst open a second time with Ms. Jones entering with a second group of guards. The last thing he felt was a hand plucking the dart from his neck and a shrill voice before passing out.


	17. The Video and the Offer

**Disclaimer: don't own.**

**A/N Thank you to everyone who's taken the time and read for so long. It's been a long journey, and I'm sort-of in shock right now that we've reached the end. I have nothing but gratitude to share with all of you, the readers, and especially the reviewers, who've made this story possible.**

Alex was almost surprised when he woke up again. He felt very weak and his throat felt like it had been hollowed out by a beaver, with a grimace he darted to the half toilet and half sink and heaved but nothing came up. Alex recognized the symptoms of the poison that had been used in the dart. The name aluded him, but it had been one of the lethal and forgetfulness-inducing ones: often used by second-rate, non-scorpia assassins, his instructor in Malagastro had said disdainfully.

He was in a cell, that much was plain. Beside the toilet was a bed and that was as exciting as it got. And so far, he was alive, which was the greatest miracle. His broken left hand had been treated professionally and as a result his entire hand was encased in a cast.

Alex didn't know how much time passed inside that cell. It felt like forever, but he got three meals a day, and from those, he deduced that he had spent at least 24 days in prison. It's strange what too much time alone in confined space can do to someone. To be fair, it was better than almost all of the other places he'd been in when caught.

Alex did not waste this stress-free time of no assassins, no espionage, and no homework. He refused to lose hope, and his mind, while trapped for so long. Instead, he kept himself on a schedule. Every "morning", whenever he woke up, he would stretch, then do 500 push-ups and 500 sit-ups. After he was done those, he would eat his breakfast, then he would practice tae-kwon-do and jujitsu until lunch. The afternoon he would devote to practicing different techniques he learned in bits-and-pieces like his limited SCORPIA, SAS, and mission training. While going through really automatic drills, he would try to quiz himself on his knowledge of herbs, poisons, guns, etc. After supper, it was a bit of Karate, and then it was straight to sleep.

Occasionally, he would discover a sedative in his food, which he would eat anyway, positioning himself carefully over the mattress. When he woke up again, his bandages would be changed and he would just feel all that much better. As the days went on, his bruises slowly faded and his body slowly recovered it's strength.

On the 25th day, there was a change to his routine. Instead of a guard sliding Alex's lunch in, the door opened, and in walked Mrs. Jones carrying his lunch on a tray. A waft of peppermint followed her in.

"The condemned prisoner's last meal?" Alex half-joked, raising an eyebrow.

Mrs. Jones' lip twitched, though she looked worried, more than anything else. She looked different, just a few small changes that spoke volumes to Alex. Her hair was a little more thin, her face just a little more frail, the bags under her eyes just a little darker. "You could say that. One way or another, you won't be a prisoner for much longer."

His nightmare was coming true. Were they going to kill him? Why had they taken so long? His throat suddenly closed. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't really know how to start." She sat on the cot, beside him, and placed the tray between them. "What you did—what we, essentially started, was no small thing. Blunt had been in power for so long, and blackmail was one of his favourite forms of persuasion."

Alex snorted. Didn't he know it.

"It got the job done," insisted Mrs. Jones. "However, this gave a general unease to the workers persuaded this way. It got to the point where people where hoping for a change. However, because they were a minority, nothing could be done. They needed something that would get more people on their side."

Smithers' mysterious words came back to Alex. "_The longer you stay hidden, the better. It shows that Blunt can't do everything."_

"Well, the public information and evidence of your personal life experiences were enough. In fact, more than enough. When you hacked into our computers last month and broadcast your little encounter in the office of the international headquarters, it brought out a reaction. Not only have they enough support to stop Blunt from blackmailing more people, they have enough support that Blunt is now a normal civilian, and they are working to get him behind bars—though that is unlikely."

"Are you part of this mysterious, they?" Alex asked.

"Yes. You are too."

"Blunt's really gone?" Asked Alex, wonderingly. It was hard for him to believe anyone would get worked up about him, and even harder to believe that Blunt was no longer the face of MI6. An important question occurred to him. "Who's the director now?"

"I am."

"Who's the assistant director?"

Mrs. Jones sighed, as this was precisely the way she _didn't_ want this conversation to go.

"Alex, you have two choices right now. The first choice: you can leave now, as a free person with a new identity and new life."

"What's the catch?" Mrs. Jones' lip almost twitched. She was reminded yet again how much he understood MI6. More than most agents, that's for sure.

"Because of your infamous record, you need to be protected and safe at all times."

"Meaning?"

"A full team of SAS trained professionals will guard you 24/7. There is no compromise possible. Right now you are very popular with the... media, you could call it, in our circles, and your death would be a slap in the face to MI6."

"Second option?" Asked Alex. If Mrs. Jones was surprised at how little time Alex considered this option, she didn't show it.

"You stay in the employ of MI6 as a fully-fledged agent, and go straight to our senior ranks. This includes access to all MI6 resources all around the world. Your safety would still be a priority, but there will be more privacy if you choose this option because it is likely you will always be in MI6 sanctioned safe houses, and 24/7 watch on you personally will not be needed."

"What's the catch?"

"You—you," It seemed Mrs. Jones had still not mastered the art of speaking without emotion in her short time as Director. She blinked a couple of times before saying it. "You will have to accept the position of the Official Deputy Director of Military Intelligence Six."

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. On the outside, he just raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Maybe he was more cut out for this than he thought.

"Would you like time to consider?" asked Mrs. Jones.

"Yes, thank you."

"There is something else that is my sad duty to tell you."

"Did Smithers die?" asked Alex.

"Wha- no. He is fine. He is too invaluable to lose, though he is no longer the sole technician we have at our disposal. We have some new technicians to help him." So Smithers was fine and alive; being kept under watch no doubt after all that happened.

"Does _this..." _he gestured, meaning his offers at a better life, "mean that the Red Alert called on my behalf is now off?"

Mrs. Jones had a guilty look, "That... shall be your very first priority if you are instated as the Deputy Director of MI6."

Alex couldn't help but snort. Wouldn't that be a fun meeting... going into a room of highly paranoid people all ordered to kill him on sight and telling them he was now the deputy director of MI6.

"Alex, I have something a bit more serious to tell you." Did Mrs. Jones actually look... awkward? And she's been showing way too much emotion the past few minutes. "It's... it's about Jack." She stopped there, gauging his reaction.

Alex said nothing.

"I was unaware of Blunt's plans concerning her until it was too late. When I confronted Blunt later about the issue, he admitted to me that he did it because he wanted to continue Scorpia's training. e thought all it took to get you to kill was to give you a good target." She said it in a tone that clearly meant she was sorry.

"I was supposed to kill Greene..." Alex thought out loud.

"His plan was that you would kill Greene the moment he'd mentioned Scorpia, who did so much against your family. With him out of the way, there would be no trail back to us, and you would be more determined to finish Scorpia. You would also become a better weapon, a killer, with quite literally, nothing to lose."

Alex sucked in a breath. Through his long confinement, he'd come to grips with Jack's death, and was no longer as... violent in his reactions. However, hearing this cruel plan of Blunt's he felt a kind of steely anger settling over him.

Mrs. Jones looked a little worried. "Maybe I should tell you another time. When you're more at peace."

"I'm fine." Alex said calmly. "If there is more to this entire fiasco, I want to know it all now."

Mrs. Jones still looked worried.

"Really Mrs. Jones," he took a deep breath to better control his voice. "I need to hear everything now so I can come to full grips with the truth. If I'm to become deputy, I must be able to control my emotions."

"Alright." She said. "There was another reason why Jack was assassinated. I... I think it would be better to show you rather than tell." She removed the false bottom of the tray to reveal a sleek laptop. The screen illuminaed Ms Jones' tired face as she entered a long string of passwords. She handed the laptop over to Alex and clicked in a video file.

A grainy film showed a man in a windowless room with Jack. His back was to her and the camera, and she looked like she'd just cried. Seeing her sad, alive face was more shocking to Alex than he'd thought. He looked away, and blinked hard.

"Please, Alex. This is important." Said Mrs. Jones softly.

Alex looked up again.

The man in the video spoke, "You have exactly one month to consider our proposition." Just hearing it made him shiver.

Jack nodded her head behind the man. The date on the corner read January 25th.

The scene changed. They were in the same room but it was a different day, at a different time. They both had different clothes on, and the date on the screen read February 25th.

"A week before Jack..." whispered Alex, but he couldn't finish.

Jack spoke this time. "I've decided." There was finality and a long festering hurt and pain in her tone.

"And the verdict is?" asked the man on the screen.

Alex knew her decision before she'd even spoken. "I will help you." She took a deep breath, "I will tell you about Alex Rider, as long as you promise to get him away from MI6."

_How could she?_ Thought Alex as tears welled up in his eyes. _Why would she? Jack betray him? To a random gang, no less._

_That was her way of trying to save you, _thought the rational part of his brain. _You've been so blind. You never realized how deep the hate she had for MI6 was. _All he felt was sadness at this knowledge. He could never be angry at Jack... but the betrayal hurt.

Alex almost missed the start of what was said next.

"—Miss Starbright." The man finally turned around to look at her. "When will you have the information we need?"

"I'll deliver it personally, in a week."

The clip ended, the little scroll bar reached the end, and blackness filled the screen. Alex shook a bit, blinking away tears. Watching this clip, realizing the full story of what happened was like rubbing salt into an already festering wound that had barely started to heal.

Mrs. Jones watched this sadly. There was a long moment of silence, while Alex got a grip on himself. He didn't think he'd cried this much since... ever.

Finally, Alex was able to get some semblance of control; he looked at Mrs. Jones, waiting for the explanation that was sure to come.

"MI5 keeps tabs on all of the local gangs, and this was footage taken by them. One of our agents in MI5—"

"You spy on MI5?" interrupted Alex. MI5 was almost the same as MI6 except they handled internal affairs while MI6 handled International ones.

"We have agents everywhere." replied Mrs. Jones shortly. "As I was saying, MI5 keep tabs on all major gang activity in England. When a particular London gang suddenly had a massive increase to their bank account,"—Alex barely held back his surprised question as to gangs with bank accounts—"MI5 began to investigate where the money had come from, and possibly what major job they had agreed to do for the money."

"How much?" Alex questioned.

"Around two million dollars. Since the job was unsuccessful, the total price was probably higher, and this was only something given at the beginning as a sort of incentive." She informed him.

"When did our MI5 agent alert us to this development?" The use of 'our' was not lost on the new head and she smiled slightly as she answered.

"We received this knowledge completely by chance. Since you are one of our most well-guarded secrets—or was—our agent did not know the importance of Jack, or a boy named Alex Rider. The reason our agent even mentioned it to us was because of the money."

"They managed to trace it."

Mrs. Jones nodded. "To a bank account in France. Since this is entirely outside of England, our agent felt it might be good to warn us, and left a file. However, it was in the less-important pile, and though they knew Jack was involved since January 25th, at the start of the proposition, it wasn't until March 2nd or so when Blunt had happened to skim over the file. He immediately called the agent and asked for all of the information, and then he got the second tape we witnessed."

"The one where Jack said she agreed to the terms..."

Mrs. Jones nodded.

"So... are you saying that Blunt was trying to _protect me _when he ordered someone to assassinate Jack?"

"Alex, you should know by now that Blunt does nothing without multiple reasons. In real life, the good guys and bad guys are not as cut and dried. He did it for all of the reasons I told you at first, selfish ones, but also, a bit was to protect you." She smiled ruefully. "That doesn't mean you need to thank Alan or anything, but you should know he always did what he thought was right. Perhaps that explains a bit more why I stood by him all those years. I mean, though he blackmailed people to do the missions, the missions saved a lot of lives."

They sat there in silence for a bit, each in lost in their own thoughts.

"I'll tell you my decision in a few days. Can I stay here while I do? It's... familiar now."

Mrs. Jones nodded.

"Can I ask why? Why me?" Asked Alex, a bit of incredulity creeping into his voice.

"Plenty of reasons, actually. You have the support of the people in MI6. You are the only one at this time that can calm the turbid political waters. You are already so famously involved that there's no way for you to just leave or ever be just another agent. You won't be able to do undercover work ever again. You know our top agents through working with them, and are even friends with a few. You can digest and analyze information quickly and think on your feet. But you can also wait and plan your moves. You're the only senior agent that I can be sure doesn't have blackmail material floating around out there for someone to take advantage of. And, I think you would be a better moral compass for me than I ever was for Blunt."

"Isn't that dangerous to have, at your rank, in this world?"

"Yes, but it's more dangerous to not have, at my rank, as a human being."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"I'll be back in three days for your answer."

**(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)**

Fourteen days later, Alex Rider became the youngest ever Deputy of Military Intelligence Six.

Fourteen years later, Alex Rider became the youngest ever Head of MI6.

**A/N: If you've read all the way to here and are reading this now, I love you. I'd love to hear what you think of the story, the characters, the writing, the plot, anything. **


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